Inheritance
by the morrighan
Summary: The Ancients left some surprises for their ATA descendants.
1. Chapter 1

Inheritance

Turquoise.

The sky was a perfect shade of light blue. Like a piece of turquoise without any matrix to mar the pure beauty of the stone. Not a single cloud dotted the curving expanse. Moira O'Meara shielded her eyes from the glaring sun as the afternoon light cascaded down through the trees. Falling from the bright blue overhead to shimmer like golden rain in the greenery.

Lowering her gaze she eyed the small deer moving furtively in the distance. Seeking the cover of the denser foliage. "Not muntjac. Definitely a deer, a pygmy. _Megaloceros caxioti._ Interesting. Evolution under insularity, reducing the size of the species to fit the environment."

"Same here," Katie Brown observed. She was crouching among a group of ferns and scarlet rhododendrons. The flowers were a stark contrast against the milder greenery. "These forms are also dwarfed. Botanical reductions are unusual, given this terrain, but I bet these are unique adaptations to the insect life."

"Geologically the region is quite new," Julie Armstrong stated., checking her scans as she brushed back her blond hair. "The mountainous range to the left is only ten thousand years old. It must have formed during the climatic surge when the city was submerged."

"I'm detecting a low energy reading," Louise Otero noted with a scowl. "Weird. It's giving off a low EM pulse. Is there anything like that here?"

The women eyed each other, shrugged. Moira stepped to the shade. Evan Lorne lounged on a large boulder, P90 cradled leisurely as he watched the four women. An expression of boredom marring his handsome face. Moira smiled. "Hey, Evan, wake up."

He smiled. "I'm awake, Moira. Believe me. Escorting a team composed of four women is keeping me on my toes."

She laughed. "I'm sorry, Evan. I don't know why John insisted on you as an escort. Or even an escort at all."

"You don't? I suspect he chose me because of that lover boy comment, I'm sure. The only reason he's not here is because he had to go on that trading mission. Besides, it's SOP to have a military escort on any mission, even one to the mainland."

"Maybe," she agreed, but smiled. "I bet it was that comment that secured you this duty. Although I don't think John would want this duty either." They laughed. Moira thought of John. Two weeks had passed while they were waiting for his back to heal. Two weeks in which the waiting had turned into a teasing competition, a flirtatious game to see who would crack first. Who would give into denied desire first.

"Moira? Did you need something?"

"What? Oh." She met his amused gaze. "Louise has detected a low EM pulse. Do you know of anything that would cause that?"

"Around here?" Evan stood, glanced round. Trees towered. A breeze whispered in the leaves. "No. The Jumper's powered down. Five klicks back. Can she trace it?"

"Hell if I know," Moira grumbled. Not to happy at having that particular woman included in their expedition. Ever since she had caused a scene in the cafeteria over Moira seeing John. She led him to the women, gestured.

"You're detecting an energy reading?" Evan asked, glancing at Julie for a moment as the breeze blew her blond hair around her face.

"Yes, major. It's low, but doable." She sneered, glancing at Moira. The implied insult all too apparent. "Isn't that what Colonel Sheppard says to you, Moira.?" She smiled sweetly.

"Repeatedly," Moira snapped, causing Evan to laugh.

Julie smirked. "Can you lead him to this alleged energy source?"

"Yes! And it's not alleged! It's real! Through the trees!" Louise said. Began to march into the greenery. Red hair glowing with the sunlight.

"Do we need to accompany you, Major Lorne?" Julie asked. Sounding annoyed. "We have work to do here while Louise can take you to that–"

"Afraid not, Doctor Armstrong. We stay together."

"We're not on your team, major. You're only here because the military is paranoid and over-cautious and feels the need to control everything," Julie argued.

Evan glanced at Moira but it was Katie who replied, "With good reason. Remember where we are, Julie. Look, we can all go and return when we're done. Moira?"

Moira nodded, glancing at Evan. "Yes, we should stay together. It's SOP. Julie, we can come back afterwards."

Evan smiled. Gestured. "I'll take the six. Doctors, lead on."

Julie scowled, but headed after the rapidly disappearing form of Louise. Her red hair was like a beacon in the shadowed overgrowth. Katie shrugged, followed. Moira patted Evan's arm, strolled with him. "Is this your dream team, Evan?" she teased. "A team entirely composed of women?"

Evan snorted. "Women? Yes. Scientists? No." They laughed.

"Major Lorne! Major Lorne!" Louise called. Exchanging a glance Moira and Evan hastened out of the trees into a clearing. Stopped. Stared.

A strange-looking object protruded from the ground at an angle. It was metallic. A dull gray streaked with dirt and rust. Strong lines marked its rugged surface. A very faint hum could be discerned emanating from it. It tapered towards the end, narrowing as it pointed towards the sky.

"It's still emitting a low EM pulse...almost like it's on...standby," Louise stated. She circled the object, scanning it with her equipment. All serious and professional.

"It looks Lantean. The architectural details remind me of the towers," Katie remarked.

"What the hell is it?" Julie asked, impatient. Glanced at her watch.

Moira and Evan circled it. "Do you see any writing? Any kind of controls?" she asked.

"No. It's most definitely Lantean. It almost reminds me of a gunnery sta–" He never completed the word as the ground shook.

Violent rumbles knocked the team off their feet. A wave of sound threw them backwards, momentarily causing deafness. Evan scrambled to cover Moira as the ground rose beneath them. The machine was rising. Rising. Revealing a platform.

"Keep down!" Evan needlessly shouted.

Dirt and rocks flew. Hurled upwards only to shower back down. Julie cried out, struck by a falling rock. Katie crouched in the ferns, covering her head. Louise was sprawled on her back and struggled to stand, to grab her fallen equipment. Moira found herself crouched under Evan as he shielded her from the falling debris. Finally the shaking stopped. A hum filled the air.

Shakily the team rose. Katie ran to Julie who was holding a hand to her cut cheek. Louise staggered to her feet, shaking her head. Moira and Evan stood.

"Stay back! Status?" Evan asked, staring at the now taller and more prominent object.

"It's...it's powering up! The power is growing! It's energy readings are climbing but not dangerous."

"Powering for what?" Moira asked, moving next to Evan as he stared. A control panel had been revealed. Two rods amid glowing lights. Blinking. A screen that flared with numbers, grids. Sequences. "Evan?"

"A gunnery station," he completed his sentence at last. "I'll be damned. This looks like the city's screens...grids for navigation, or targeting." He touched the keypad. The hum increased. Blinking lights flared, reacting to his ATA gene. The gun pivoted. Dirt flew. "Oh oh...I didn't do that. The ATA gene...shit."

"Can you power it down?" Moira asked. Glancing up into the spotless sky to see nothing.

"I don't know! There's no switch! You'd think an advanced civilization like the Ancients would at least have the common sense to put in an on-off switch, now wouldn't you? I don't see any controls like we have in the city."

"Power levels increasing to fifty percent. Sixty," Louise intoned.

"Shit! It's a weapon! An automated targeting system," he realized. Viewed the screen. "This is an attack grid. It's locked onto something!"

"But what? I don't see anything!" Moira said, glancing again at the blue sky.

"Atlantis, copy!" Evan tapped his earpiece, his radio. "This is Lorne! Shield the city! Repeat, shield the city! We have an unknown variable prepping for attack!" he shouted. "Copy?" He pulled Moira back as the gun pivoted again. Swung upwards. Fired.

A greenish laser shot into the blue sky.

"What's it targeting?" Moira asked. Exchanged a worried glance with Evan.

*************************************************************************

John Sheppard flew the Jumper lazily towards the planet. Entered the atmosphere. "Well, that was a colossal waste of time," he complained.

"I wholeheartedly agree!" Rodney McKay stated.

Ronon Dex laughed. "Likewise."

Teyla Emmagan sighed. "The Sanerians are a simple people, colonel. I told you that. We have successfully acquired trading relations for food and homespun linens."

"Whoopee," John commented. The men laughed at his bored tone. "Can't get enough of those homespun linens," he ruefully noted, causing more merriment.

"And that great cone of power they were waxing ecstatically about?" Rodney added, irritated at the memory. "Not a ZPM. Just a hollowed out rock with a phosphorescent moss."

"Like I said. Whoopee," John repeated.

Teyla laughed. "Fair enough, Rodney. But they are good, honest people."

"But so boring," Ronon noted. Sighed.

"Admit it. The whole mission was a waste of time. No weapons, no intel, nothing pert...pertinent," John smoothly continued, "for the mission." He repeated the word in his mind. Pertinent. Pert. Like Moira's pert little ass she deliberately swayed ahead of him to tease. To flirt. Two weeks without any sexual or even romantic contact and John was ready to concede. Except the mission had intervened.

"Sheppard, do I have to repeat it?" Rodney snapped, sighed.

"Repeat what?" John asked.

"I'm detecting a strange energy reading and whoa. It's headed straight for us!"

"What is? Crap." John swerved the Jumper as a greenish bolt flew unerringly towards them. He veered, pivoted and fired to eliminate the threat. "What the hell was–"

"Atlantis, copy? Hey, they're shielded!" Rodney announced, shocked.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard! What's going on down there?" His hands moved over the controls. He brought the HUD to life. Readings scrolled.

"Is it the Wraith?" Teyla asked. Apprehensive.

"John, do not enter the city," Elizabeth Weir's calm voice spoke out of the comm. "There's something on the mainland. Major Lorne has encountered a Lantean weapon."

"So have we," John quipped. "Wait? A weapon on the mainland?" John thought back to that alternate reality, that alternate Atlantis. "Like a gunnery station?"

"Look out!" Rodney shouted.

Another greenish bolt was aiming straight for them, streaking across the blue sky. John swore, flew wildly, juking to avoid it. Flew away from the city across the ocean. "Damn! I can't shake it! Shielding! There, we–"

The hit rocked the ship. The shield flared, but held. John rolled with the blast, plummeting towards the ocean but pulling up at the last possible second as alarms shrieked.

"Sublight is holding but that drive pod isn't happy!" Rodney informed. "How did that get through the shielding? Drive pod one has sustained damage on the–"

"Crap, not that again, we just fixed it," John complained. "Major Lorne, report!" John snapped, flying towards the mainland. "Why are you firing upon us? Major Lorne?"

***********************************************************************

The gun pivoted again. Evan snatched the controls, trying to guide it. He hit the panel. "Where's the off switch? Damn it! It's not responding!"

"Pull the crystals out! Do something!" Julie suggested.

"There are no crystals, at least not above ground," Louise noted.

"Can you control it?" Moira asked.

"Major Lorne, why are you firing on us?" John's voice came over the radio.

"Colonel Sheppard? It's not me!" Evan replied. "Moira found a fully automated weapon station that somehow became operational and–"

"Moira? What the hell is she doing there...oh yeah...the estrogen mission," John remembered.

"Hilarious, John!" Moira scolded over the radio. "You need to get out of here!"

"You think?" he quipped. "Shut that thing down. Now!"

"We can't, sir. It's not–"

"I'm on my way!" Rodney interjected. "Lorne, is it a fully automated targeting system?"

"Yes, Rodney! With a triangular grid and sensor ranges. The controls are not responding and there are no crystals to pull!" Evan informed. The ground rocked. The gun swerved. "Outgoing, sir!" A bolt flew from the gun into the sky.

John flew violently to the left as another green bolt barely missed them. He accelerated, higher. Higher. Wishing there was some cloud cover but there was nothing but blue sky. "Son of a bitch! Shut it down now! Shoot it, no belay that order!"

"What?" Teyla exclaimed.

"We might need this weapon if we can control it," John explained.

"If! That's a big if, John! As in if it doesn't shoot us down first!" Rodney stammered.

"John, can you out fly it?" Moira asked over the radio.

"Trying to, but it's damn accurate," he answered. "Major, try to control it. It's activated by the ATA gene. Like the Chair! Use your mind to shut it down!"

"I'll try, sir, but it's automated!" Nevertheless Evan grabbed the controls. Closed his eyes.

"It won't work," Rodney glumly noted. "If it's truly automated the ATA gene will only enhance its power. Not control it."

"Now you tell me?" John snapped.

Moira grasped Evan's shoulder. "Concentrate, Evan," she urged, but the gun swung again. The controls veered in his hands.

"I'm trying! It's...it's fighting me!" Evan exclaimed. "I can feel it."

Another greenish bolt flew into the sky. John saw it coming as alarms blared. He veered and swooped but the weapon hit. The shield fluttered, faded. Resumed but another alarm sounded.

"The hull's been compromised! I told you!" Rodney shouted. "It's more powerful with him at the controls!"

"And if he lets go there's no control at all!" John argued. Diving towards the land. Swerved and flew wildly. "I'm losing lateral controls, Lorne!"

"It's fighting me, sir!" Evan shouted. The strain evident in his voice. In his stance as he clung to the controls. Muscles tensed as he tried to move the twin rods.

"It may have a limited AI, being fully functional without any human interference," Rodney reasoned. "Actually it sounds like a quite ingenious and fascinating device."

"Yeah, if it wasn't trying to kill us," Ronon quipped.

The Jumper appeared in the bright blue sky, wobbling on one side. Smoke streaming from one drive pod. Another buildup of power hummed. The ground shook. The gun pivoted, almost knocking Evan from the platform.

"No! No! John, get out of here!" Moira warned.

"We're losing speed and altitude. We can't go higher," John grimly noted.

"Power's surging," Rodney warned. Looked at John who shook his head. "Shields can't take another direct hit. We're–"

"Sitting ducks," John finished for him. "Lorne?"

"Sorry, sir...it's strong...too..." Evan's voice verged on exhaustion.

"It's about to fire!" Rodney warned, staring at the land growing closer, closer. He braced himself for impact.

"Moira..." John juked awkwardly. "Moira, let Moira at the controls!"

"Sir?"

"Moira, take over!" John realized. Hoped. "Your ATA is stronger. Take over and power it down, or at least direct the shot away from us!"

"John!" Moira pulled Evan aside. He staggered, catching his breath. Releasing his hold of the controls. She grasped the twin rods tightly. Closed her eyes. Felt the power surging. The platform rocking. She visualized the Jumper. John. The green bolt.

"Incoming! Fast! Super fast!" Rodney warned. He gripped the sides of his chair. "John..."

"Hang on!" John saw it coming. Straight for the viewport. A green glow against the blue sky. He swung low. It mimicked him. He veered left. It mimicked him again. "Moira," he urged, juking right at an angle that nearly toppled his passengers. The bolt veered right, heading for the exposed underbelly. But flew overhead. Barely missed them.

A cheer erupted in the Jumper. "You did it, Moira! Now power it down! Moira?" John asked.

Moira was glued to the platform. Hands clenched on the controls. The rods jerked her left and right but she held onto them, fighting them. Eyes scrunched closed. "John..." she whispered, voice strained.

Evan caught her shoulder. "Hold on, Moira! Let's power it down."

"Moira, power it down," John urged. "Picture the systems powering down. The lights fading. The hum fading. Take down all systems." He guided the ship towards the land, trying to slow the suddenly rapid speed of descent. "You can do it, Moira," he encouraged.

Rodney anxiously viewed the HUD. "It's...it's working! It's powering down. Slowly. It's fighting but she's doing it! Moira, you're doing it! I could kiss you!"

John smirked. "I don't think so. Moira, keep it going...are you okay?"

"Busy concentrating, John," she quipped, her voice a breathless whisper.

"Can you land the ship?" Teyla asked.

"Yes. Let's locate them. Land near...there! Hold on. It's going to be bumpy."

"Like your usual landings, then," Rodney jested. John glared at him as laughter ensued.

"As long as we get down in one piece I don't care!" Ronon stated.

Evan's hand relaxed on Moira's shoulder. "That's it. Doctor Otero?"

Louise scanned the device. "All powered down, major. At the moment. I very much doubt it will last."

"Okay, Moira, you can let go. Moira?"

Moira opened her eyes, released the breath she had been holding. "Are you sure? Rodney, can I let go?"

"Moira? Yes. You should be fine. I'll be there in a few minutes. Once you release it the device should revert back to its–" Rodney's voice was interrupted by crackling static as the ship landed. Hard. Bounced on the ground before resting at an angle in the dirt.

Moira unclenched her hands, stepped off the platform. Staggered but Evan caught her. She wiggled her fingers. "Damn! That was hard! And weird! It was like fighting another person in there!"

"Limited AI," Rodney's voice resumed. "Probably a nano technology like other Lantean systems." He looked at John as he powered down the ship. "How did you know she could do that?"

"I didn't," John admitted. "I mean, I know she has a strong ATA gene."

"Oh..." Rodney stared.

"If anyone would bring Sheppard safely home it would be Moira," Ronon explained. Exchanged a smile with Teyla.

"Why? Oh...oh..." Rodney nodded.

John merely smiled. But as he stood he released the breath he had been holding. Knew what a near thing it had been.


	2. Chapter 2

Inheritance2

Moira sat on a rock thrown up by the seismic rising of the gun. The sun was drifting behind a swiftly approaching bank of gray clouds. Distant thunder rumbled. Rain could be tasted on the wind but none had fallen yet. She flexed her sore arms, sore fingers. Trying to catch her breath.

She heard voices. Looked across the clearing to see John and his team heading for them. Gusts of wind blew John's dark hair into further disorder. Rippled the black t-shirt against his lean torso, his muscles. Rippled the gray pants against his crotch, his legs. She forced her gaze past him to see Rodney's anxious eagerness to reach the machine. Teyla's stoic expression. Ronon's smirk of amusement.

"Sir." Evan turned as the team approached. "Glad to see you're one in piece, sir."

"Me too, major," John agreed, moving straight to Moira. Gaze devouring her wind-blown long brown hair. The teal t-shirt molded to her curves. The khaki slacks making him anticipate her standing, turning around. He wondered if her underwear matched the shirt. Decided he would find out. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked quietly.

Moira smiled, met his gaze. Saw the playful passion in his brilliant green eyes. Felt an anticipatory thrill go through her. "I just saved your fine, fine ass, flyboy. Not even a drink?"

He smiled. Her voice was raspy, almost sultry as she rested. Chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. He met her gaze again. "Later, baby." He turned. "Let's see this fine new weapon you found for me."

"A big gun, John. Big. Hard. And erect," she teased, taunted. He froze in his tracks, in mid-step. His back to her. She admired the view. The black-t-shirt rippling along his back as the wind gusted. Gray pants molding his rear. Moira wished the t-shirt would lift, or he would lean over so she could get a glimpse of skin, of his boxers. Wondered what color he was wearing.

John looked at her over his shoulder. Gave her a slow, wicked smile, brows raised. "Not just the gun, baby," he informed. Licked his lips. Resumed his walk to the weapon.

Rodney was circling it. Eyes lit with excitement. "Wow! It's amazing! The engineering...we have to study this!"

"We will." John circled it. "Was it always protruding this far, or did something trigger it?"

"We would have detected it this far out of the ground on our scans," Rodney answered. "I bet out ship triggered it...no, no, something else must have."

"When we found it, sir, it was nearly buried–" Evan began.

"Up to the shaft," Moira agreed, eyes locked on John. "But the earth moved and it thrust up."

John tried not to smirk as he met her gaze. "All on its own? You didn't touch it? Stroke it? Or get it wet?" He licked his lips again, a quick motion of his tongue. Saw her vivid interest, her quick adjustment on the rock.

"No, colonel. It started all on its own," she replied.

"A self-starter? I've seen that before..."

"You have? Where?" Rodney asked, oblivious to the flirtatious meaning in their words.

John finally broke from her gaze. "Never mind." He studied it. "Fully automated defensive system. Yet completely separate from the city."

"A last defense?" Rodney suggested. He tentatively touched it. Opened a panel. "No visible ZPM, or crystals. I bet the power source is buried. The power requirements would be massive, plus there's got to be a control center somewhere to run the program."

"If that's so why would it fire on a Jumper? It should recognize it's own ship," John muttered.

"I scanned the area, Doctor McKay, and found nothing," Louise noted. Tearing her gaze from John as he circled it again. Stood staring at it, hands on his hips.

"Oh?" Just noticing the women Rodney stared. Spotted Katie watching him, her auburn hair fluttering in the wind. He smiled. "Hi."

"Hi, Rodney," she replied.

"Colonel Sheppard, we have an expedition we would like to resume," Julie intervened, "if you don't mind. Frankly this is not part of it." She gestured at the weapon.

John eyed her, glanced at Moira. Mouthed the question who.

Moira mouthed back Armstrong.

"Doctor Armstrong," John smoothly stated, meeting the geologist's icy gaze, "I'm afraid this takes precedence. And there seems to be a storm approaching." He glanced at the increasingly graying sky. Dark clouds were rolling across the blue expanse, leeching the color. "Major Lorne, take this science team back to Atlantis. And Teyla, you get to report to Weir about the wonderful homespun linens we acquired."

Teyla frowned. "Thank you, John." Ronon laughed.

"Yes, sir. Doctors, Teyla, this way," Evan invited.

Moira stood as the women passed her. Katie resigned. Julie furious. Louise scowling, as she kept glancing back at John. Teyla shook her head and followed the scientists. Moira began to follow her but stopped, glancing at John.

John shook his head. "Not you." He strode to her. "Show me where you have been, before you found this." John turned. "Rodney, is that thing turned off? Completely? I don't want Lorne to encounter what we did. Although it would serve him right."

Moira grabbed her pack. Produced the laptop and brought up the screen. A map was displayed.

"John! It wasn't Evan's fault! He–"

"You, bring up that grid. And for those earlier comments I am going to spank that pert little ass of yours," he quietly threatened. A sensual rasp to his voice. He turned again. "Rodney!"

"Yes! Yes, I am certain! There's a switch here at the back...hold on!" Rodney squatted near the device.

"Moira can always control it if it does go off," Ronon stated, staring at the device.

"I don't know. It was pretty exhausting the first time." She smiled suddenly. John gave her a warning look, shook his head seeing the sparkle of amusement in her brown eyes. The playful flirtation. "Very tiring, but thorough. The vibrations were deep. Relentless. I could barely hold onto it as it kept coming and coming...ceaselessly rocking me. I thought it was going to go off prematurely but I managed to control it. Taking firm hold and stroking it up and down, up and down...holding it so tight. Isn't that right, John?" she asked innocently.

John pursed his lips, smacked his palms together. "That's two." He closed her lap top, not even having looked at the map. "I can't read these grids properly. We can use the Jumper's display. Rodney, deactivate that thing. Ronon, keep watch"

"On what?" Ronon asked, but John ignored the question.

"Moira, with me." He strode out of the clearing.

Moira followed quickly, laughing softly even as her own body was reacting to her provocative words. To the strain in his voice. The sensual rasp. "John...are those the tightest pants you own?" she teased.

"Stop staring at my ass," he commented.

"Hey, I just saved that fine, fine ass of yours, colonel. So I will look at it all I want." Her gaze wandered up his back. To the muscles tensing along his body. The way he moved. Strides so quick, so wide, so confident. Making his way through the greenery. "John..." She sped up to be beside him. Took his arm. "I don't even want to think of what could have happened if I hadn't have been able to control that thing."

"But you did, Moira." He led her into the Jumper. "What grids did you search?"

"Grids? I only have the locations on the map. We crossed the meadows near the river. Then advanced to the tree line, going north."

John glanced at her, sighed. "Grids four and five, I'm guessing." He watched her set down her pack, leaning over to place the laptop back into it. John stared at her rear, hugged by the khaki pants. He imagined walking over to her, pulling her against him, shoving into her. He turned to the controls. "Three."

"What?" She straightened, whirled. "I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to, baby. That pert little ass of yours is enough to get me hard all by itself," he informed her. "I am going to strip off those pants. Strip off those panties. And spank that pert little ass of yours three times. Hard," he promised her. His smouldering gaze raked over her as he shifted his stance. Body responding to his words, his desires.

Moira believed him. Imagined him doing it. Could almost feel his hand on her bare skin. She shifted, colored at the sudden rush of desire. Physical reactions a flood of arousal, need. She wanted him. Tension rode her. Tightness clenched her lower body and she almost winced. Wetness tingled. "Wow...I...John? I...I..." She stammered, eyes wide now. "It's so intense, John, so tight, so wet, so..."

John moaned softly, riveted. He leaned against the wall, turning away from her. "Damn...your mouth makes me rock hard," he complained tersely. Shifting his stance as his erection throbbed, throbbed. Straining now against his shorts, his pants. So eager to take her.

"John, are you in pain?" she asked, advancing. Seeing his expression.

He glanced at her, suspecting sarcasm but she was serious. Concerned. He held up his hand, fingers splayed.

She froze, staring. "John? Five minutes? You need...is it your back again?"

John would have laughed but he groaned instead. "No, Moira...it's my ordnance. The whole fucking package."

"Oh...oh! Is this what you feel when you–"

"Welcome to my world, baby," he agreed. "Only it's worse now. Believe me. Don't touch," he warned sternly. Cursing inwardly he tried to control it but he couldn't. His whole body was tense, tight, straining. His erection was almost painful. Balls aching. He wasn't use to losing this much control, wondered at it, at her. Couldn't rein it in if he tried. "Damn it," he muttered harshly. Savagely he shifted. Groaned. Unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoned his pants.

Moira stared, entranced. His harsh voice brushing against her skin, causing her to shiver, to ache. She closed the hatchway. Moved to him as desire overwhelmed her. Fascinated by his loss of control, her power over him she neared slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. Felt a thrill at the thought. She stopped. Considered, glancing at the closed door. Back at him. She debated. Removed her pants and panties. Wondered at her daring. Her physical need.

John breathed deeply. He shifted, but was starting to come in his pants. It hadn't happened in a long time. Not like this. He began to trickle. He unzipped, undid his boxers. Shoved his hand down to seek relief, release. A groan escaped his lips.

Moira spun him round. Launched herself against him. Kissed him deeply, opening her mouth to his to receive him. Her body slammed against his. "John, oh John, oh John," she whispered hotly, running her mouth up his throat to circle, circle his ear.

John captured her mouth with his again. Eager. Impatient. He broke from her kiss when he realized she was half naked, vulnerable. Ready as her wetness brushed his thigh, his cock. Wasting no time he cupped her rear in his hands. Squeezed and lifted her. Shoved her back against the wall and thrust into her. Coming even before he was completely in her. Groans of pleasure and relief growled from his throat.

Moira squirmed, grabbing his shoulders as she was almost shoved off her feet. He thrust in and out, in and out. Quicker, harder as his spasms undulated. She moaned, angled backwards to facilitate his need. Her own pleasure spiraling, spiraling as he kissed her again. Moving her, rocking her with him. She hit the wall repeatedly but the rush of pleasure was swift, sudden. She cried out as the orgasm took her, slammed her beyond caring.

One minute she was shoved against the wall, up the wall at an awkward angle. The next she found herself on the floor, splayed on her back at an even more awkward angle. Lifted repeatedly as John muttered something about leverage and kept entering, thrusting. Rocking her faster, harder, deeper. He strained, groaned. A flurry of swear words erupted as the release spurted out of him. The second orgasm hit and Moira clutched his arms, whimpering and moaning loudly. Her whole body quivering, melting under his. Her clitoris throbbing as he thrust, thrust, seemingly unable to stop. Her cries of his name a litany, a rushing crescendo ending in a strangled gasp as the pleasure peaked.

John was propelled by her noises. The oh John litany urging him, arousing him again as she climaxed in a shudder. Arching, clenching around him tightly. Drawing all of him into her, squeezing him into ecstatic vibrations. He yanked up her shirt, yanked down her bra, barely noting the teal color as he grabbed a breast. To kiss the hard nipple, to suck and pull, nearly bite but he caught himself. Still moving until another spasm spurted. Spend the last of his energy, lust, need into her. Straining. He still kept moving, but slower. Slower. Thinking he would never stop, would never get enough as her muscles contracted, opened around him. As she writhed beneath him. Clutching. Clawing as her fingers fought their way under his shirt.

Moira squirmed, not feeling the pack poking into her naked rear. Only feeling John coming for a last time. Pouring all of the sexual tension, need into her. Possessing her, claiming her. She caught her breath, muffled her moans and cries. Relaxing slightly as he calmed. Slowed. Steadied. He slid up to kiss her repeatedly. Still moving inside her but nearly spent now. Languorous motions of his cock imitated by his tongue in her mouth.

John finally fell upon her. Eased himself out of her. Freed her mouth. He caressed her arm, her side. His face buried in the folds of her rumpled shirt, in the wild strands of her hair. Moira caressed his back under his shirt. Needing skin, bare skin to touch, to feel. To caress. He waited. Waited. Finally found his voice. "So...I say it's a draw. Agreed?"

She softly laughed. Caressed his disordered hair. "Yes. Okay, sweetie."

He lifted his head, smiled. Kissed her. "I didn't hurt you, did I, baby?"

"No, John. You could never hurt me," she assured. Ignoring the slight tenderness from the wild, vivid intimacy.

"My Moira." He kissed her again. "I'm sorry...I couldn't...I couldn't stop it. I don't lose control like that. You're the first to do that to me in a long, long time."

"Really, John? None of your lots some women ever made you–"

"Come in my pants like that? No, sweetheart. Only you." He sighed happily. Kissed her. Ran gentle kisses along her throat. Nibbled her earlobe to make her sigh, to moan softly, so softly. "I'll tell you one thing, baby, we are never doing this again."

"What? Having sex in the Jumper? Agreed. And don't call me–"

"No," he interrupted. "We are going to have sex whenever we want. I don't care if my fucking back is broken. Those three weeks nearly killed me."

She rolled her eyes. "It was two, sweetie, and I hardly think you would have died from lack of–"

"Yes, I would have," he assured. Grinned. Slid into her suddenly. "Ah baby...so fucking sweet I have to have you again."

"John? You...you...oh John," she purred as he began a slow and steady rhythm.

He smirked at her surprise. Kissed her. He tapped his earpiece "McKay, what's your status?"

***********************************************************************

Rodney was hunched at the control panel. Perilously balanced on the platform as he pried at the innards of the machine. Wires flung to his knees. A flashlight balanced in his mouth as his fingers nimbly sorted through the mess. With a muffled swear he removed the flashlight from his mouth, sighed. "This is complicated. I need access to the main controls. The lack of crystals is frustrating, not to mention odd. These wires are very old-school, well, old-school for the Ancients. A veritable lattice of wires and even some micro-technology that–"

"So you can't shut it off?" Ronon interrupted.

"I didn't say that! Of course I can turn it off...just not here." He tapped his earpiece. "Sheppard? Sheppard, copy?" Rodney climbed out of the panel, looked round as he moved to his feet. "Why isn't he answering? How long can it take to scan a grid? I'd better go see if–"

"I wouldn't," Ronon advised. Blocking his way. Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Rodney glared at the Satedan. "What? Why not? He's not answering his radio. For all we know he's found something and gone off to investigate it."

"Doubtful."

"Really? Well, if he can't handle a simple grid search then he obviously needs my help. Maybe Moira gave him the wrong coordinates."

"Doubtful," Ronon repeated. He grabbed Rodney's arm as the scientist tried to pass him. "McKay, don't. Trust me, you do not want to go there."

"What?" Rodney asked, perplexed. Irritated. "Why ever not? All they are doing is scanning the grid for signs of any thermal or seismic interfaces. You...you..." he stuttered at Ronon's smile. "Oh, come on! You've got to be kidding me! No way! No way they are doing that, that...or...are they? No no no no no!"

Ronon laughed. "I could be wrong, but if I'm right do you really want to walk in on that?"

"God, no! There's no way, no way!" Yet Rodney looked towards the trees where the Jumper was parked. Unable to see it he squinted, as if the greenery would part for him. It didn't.

"You didn't see the way they were looking at each other. Especially the way he was looking at her," Ronon explained. Amused at Rodney's absolute denial, disbelief.

"No, no, I don't believe it! Let me hail him again."


	3. Chapter 3

Inheritance3

John paused, easing himself in and out, in and out, feeling every slick fold, every tight tremble. He smiled, kissed Moira again. Tapped his earpiece. "Huh. He's probably engrossed in the machine," he commented. "Oh, sorry! You're probably uncomfortable."

"What?" Moira asked, voice soft, passionate as he was rocking her gently, slowly. The pleasure building, building. She pulled him closer, ignoring the discomfort of the pack under her, the odd angle. "No, don't move yet, John. Oh John..." she enthused. Kissed him, drawing him down onto her. Shifting, tightening on him to make him softly moan into her mouth.

"Sheppard?" came the irascible scientist's voice in John's ear.

John broke the kiss. Paused until his voice was calm. Neutral. "McKay? I tried hailing you earlier. Status?" He smiled as Moira ran kisses along his jaw, down his throat. Moving her hands under his shirt, along his waist. Closing her legs to trap him.

"What the hell is taking so long, John?" Rodney asked, glancing at Ronon who was smirking. "Have you found anything?"

"I told you, Rodney, we're scanning the grid," John answered, sounding almost bored. But he suppressed a moan as Moira tightened on him. He met her bemused gaze. Mouthed the word four at her. "And no, we're still looking. Moira's directions are all over the map, so to speak. Do you have any idea how long it takes to find the grid, let alone scan it, scan it, scan it until it comes...clear?" Moira muffled her laugh as he winked at her.

"Half an hour?" Rodney asked, glancing at his watch. "I'm coming over there to–"

"No! No need...we're almost done...isn't that right, Moira?" he asked, smiled at the panic in her eyes. "We'll come to you. Give us...." he made a questioning expression. She mouthed the word ten at him. "Ten? Really? Okay, ten. Give us ten minutes."

"Fine, fine, just scan your grid and get the hell out."

John laughed. "That's my plan. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece, grinned. "Nice try, baby, but I'm in control of this sweet, sweet grid. Time to scan and scan, I think." He kissed her. Pushed her legs apart and thrust, thrust harder, faster to make her murmur, gasp. Come in a breathless litany of his name. Her orgasm propelled his and he grunted swear words as he reached his destination. He rolled onto his back. Hit the floor with a thud, forgetting they were awkwardly elevated. "Didn't need ten after all," he quipped. "Ah, Moira..." he enthused warmly, fixing his shorts, his pants.

Moira caught her breath. "No, John, I guess not." She scrambled into her panties, her pants. Stood.

"Ah...I knew they would match," he drawled, catching a glimpse of the teal panties before the khaki pants covered them.

"Shut up, John," she scolded fondly. Saw her pack as he sat to stretch, rub his back. "John!" she complained, grabbed a towel from the pack to wipe it. "Damn, John! You came like a fountain!"

John laughed heartily, watching her. "Not all of that is me, sweetheart. You gushed like a waterfall. So fucking sweet."

"Damn! It...it even smells like–"

"Sex? Yes, it does, Moira. Hmm..." He moved to the console, brought the HUD online as thunder rumbled. Rain began to splatter the viewport. Big drops running down the window. "I better do those scans just in case. But I did love those other scans...didn't you? That sweet, sweet grid of yours, baby."

"Hilarious, John!" She opened the hatch. Fresh wind blew. The scent of rain tantalizing. Cleansing. "Anything?"

"No." He shut it down.

"John...do you...do you think they...um...they suspect we, um...we..."

"Had intercourse?" he helpfully supplied. Turned to her with a smug smile. "Vigorous intercourse?" He shrugged. "No idea, Moira."

"Wonderful," she muttered. "Let's go back to–"

"No." He stepped to her, caught her arm. Eying her messy ponytail, a teasing whirl around her shoulders as the wind blew. Her rosy lips and face. Brown eyes sparkling, warm. Clothes rumpled, clinging to her body. Nipples hard, pressing against the fabric of the teal shirt, a delicious detail that invited him. "Fuck..."

"John?" She stared at him. His wandering gaze full of amusement. Pride. Pleasure. Warmth. She touched his chest. Ran her fingers down to his waist. To his hastily buckled belt. "Ooh, John...is everything okay with your ordnance now?"

He laughed. "Yes, Moira...although my shorts are a little damp."

She laughed. "Welcome to my world, sweetie. How do you like it?"

He laughed heartily. Pulled her into his arms, kissed her. "I like it fine, baby. Just fine. There's nothing better than being fresh from fucking, hmm?"

She pushed, glared. "John! You could at least be a little more romantic than–"

"Well, not exactly fresh," he teased, hands sliding down her back to squeeze her rear. "God you smell so fucking sweet I want to run my tongue all over your–"

"John Sheppard!" she scolded, pushing again. "Focus, colonel! We need to get back to–"

"No. You are staying right here. There is no way I'm letting you go out there looking like this."

"Like what? A mess?" she asked, trying to push free but he held her close. Was unmovable. Strong arms around her waist now. "I'm sure Rodney and Ronon won't even notice."

"No, like your lover has given you a very thorough, very satisfying orgasm. No, two. Stay here, beautiful. I'll go get Rodney and Ronon and we'll head back to the city. I think I can fly us there in one piece. And ahead of the storm."

"Fine, John..." she sighed, shaking her head .

He kissed her again. "Oh, by the way," he noted, freeing her and stepping onto the ramp, "for those saucy wet comments you're getting five."

She smiled. "John! That is hardly fair!"

He laughed. "Don't care. Five. Now keep that pert little ass in here. Back in a sec." He stepped down the ramp. Broke into a sprint as the rain pelted him.

Moira sighed happily. She freed her hair, gathered it and set it in a neater ponytail. Pulled on her jacket to cover her breasts, embarrassed. Suddenly realizing why he had been staring so intently. She found a water bottle, sipped and sat in the chair behind the pilot's seat. Watched the storm. Darkness was advancing against the sky. Squalls of rain became heavier, heavier. Waves of water undulating in the strong winds.

John sprinted to the clearing. The water refreshing, cleansing. Working off any unused energy he charged towards the gunnery station. "Rodney! Ronon! Let's go!"

"Sheppard!" Ronon hailed. He was sheltered with Rodney under an expanse of trees.

"John! I think I've deactivated it!" Rodney held up a slim crystal. "This should control the automated systems but I need to find the main power source and modem!"

"You think or you know?" John asked, reaching them. "I can't take off unless you're sure!" He raised his voice as the wind tried to muffle him.

"I'm sure! I think. But can you fly the ship in this? With a damaged drive pod! We could veer off-course or crash into the ocean!" Rodney shouted.

"I can fly it! Let's go!"

Moira drank half the water in the bottle. The sky was glowering. Dark heavy clouds blocked all the light. Rain pounded. Lightning flashed. Jagged sparks of blue and purple against the darkness. Thunder crashed. Wind howled. The trees were swaying wildly. Scraping the vehicle as they were bent at low angles. Moira tapped her earpiece. "John? The storms' getting worse!"

"Really? Thanks for telling me, Moira, otherwise I wouldn't have known," John quipped, running with the other two men. "Power her up, Moira. We're almost there."

"Will do, John. And for that sarcastic comment I'm detracting a spanking. So four."

He laughed. "I don't think so, Moira."

The men reached the Jumper, clambered up the ramp. Boots stomping. Water splashing off them. "Why is it so wet back here?" Rodney demanded. "Moira?"

She whirled, nearly dropping the water bottle onto the console as she stood near it. "What?" John met her panicked face. Smirked.

"Why did you leave the hatch open for so long? I could lose valuable equipment!" Rodney flared, squatting to check his pack. He shook excess water from his clothes.

"Oh. Sorry, Rodney. I knew you were coming so I–"

"Really? How would you know that?" John muttered as he passed her. Grinned at her scowl. At the jacket she wore. "Strap in!" He slid into the pilot's seat as Ronon shut the hatch. Rodney took the co-pilot's chair. Moira sat behind John as Ronon took the last seat behind Rodney. John reached back, open-handed. Moira handed him the water bottle. "Thanks. Geez...you could have left me a little more."

"Really? I thought you'd had enough of that, colonel," she teased. Watched him as he tilted his head back to down the water greedily. His hair and clothes were drenched. Water ran down his bare neck. Along his broad shoulders. Trickled along his jaw, down his sideburns. She smiled, but schooled her expression as he glanced back at her for a moment. Then looked at the men.

"Okay, here we go. This will be rough, but we'll reach our destination."

"Hmm...again?" she whispered. Tried not to laugh as he smirked, playfully scowled.

The ship lifted. Shuddered. Rain pounded it. A noisy clatter of water on metal. Visibility was poor. The air a gray mist. Curtains of water weaving wildly. Lightning flashing but sporadic. The wind buffeted. The ship listed to one side but John fought the controls, righting it.

"John, are you sure you can fly in this?" Moira asked.

"I can fly in anything, Moira," he assured, added quietly, "Into anything. Repeatedly. Ouch!" he reacted as she leaned to tug his ear. He checked the console. Brought the HUD to check all systems. To scan the area.

"Maybe it would be better to stay grounded for the night," Rodney agreed as the ship shuddered again. "We can bunk in here. We won't get wet and be safer than we are now!"

"Oh, we'll get wet...well, some of us will...ouch! Stop that!" he scolded. Touched his ear.

"Then listen to Rodney!" she scolded. "And behave!"

"Wet..." John mused. Smiled. Pictured Moira in the rain. The water dripping down her naked body. His. Making love in the pouring rain. "No, we're going to the city. We have to get back to the city. Tonight!" He glanced back at her. Lifted a brow. Gave her a suggestive look. Green eyes sparkling with mirth, passion.

Moira frowned. "Oh no. Great. Thanks, Rodney."

"Thanks? For what?" he asked, bewildered.

"Yes, thanks, Rodney. That's an excellent idea," John agreed.

"What? What idea?" Rodney asked, looking from one to the other.

"Trust me, you probably don't want to know," Ronon advised.

"No, John," Moira refused.

"Oh yes, Moira," he countered. The ship veered suddenly. John countered, leveling. Suddenly serious his fingers flew across the control board. "I can't gain altitude. We need more power. Rodney!"

"On it!" Rodney sighed, unbuckled and moved to the back of the ship. His steps lurching with the rocking vehicle.

"Maybe you should just land," Ronon suggested.

"We'll make it." The Jumper veered. The ship seemed to fight him, dipping down towards the riotous ocean. White-capped waves violently slammed. "All right, Rodney, I'm dropping the shields. Divert all energy to the sublight engines."

"What?" Rodney exclaimed. "You can't drop the shields! We'll be pulverized out here!"

"Do it! We need the additional power or we'll never make the city! In one piece," he added. Brow furrowing as alarms flashed. The drive pod waggled loosely. John could almost hear the rattling of parts as the wind tried to tear it off the ship.

Moira leaned forward, touched his shoulder. "John, you don't have to do this to impress me."

"I thought I already impressed you, sweetheart," he rejoined, letting the endearment slip. Not noticing as he had his hands full trying to fight the elements, the ship's own battered systems. "You certainly impressed the hell out of me."

"Shut up, John!" She sat back, glanced at Ronon who was grinning. She shrugged, blushed and looked out at the storm.

"Rodney! Any time now!"

"On it!" Rodney snapped, panels flung open. Crystal wires dangling. "Now!"

John dropped the shield. "Hold on!"

The ship was violently buffeted. Nearly spun like a toy as the wind shredded past its defenses. Rain gouged the viewport. Rattled noisily on the hull like hail.

"Switching all power to sublight! Okay, go, go!" Rodney urged, hanging onto the panel for dear life as the ship began to corkscrew. A perilous descent to the frothing waters beneath it.

John accelerated, lifting higher. Higher over the ocean. A burst of energy giving him the propulsion needed to fight the wind, to ride the air currents instead of being assaulted by them. Gaining altitude from the dark, turgid waters below them. Thunder crashed. Lightning flared. Electric bolts of sizzling blue that illuminated the massive storm clouds. "Hold on! You strapped in, Moira?"

"Yes, John!"

"We won't make it!" Rodney declared, clinging to the wall for support. "Are you crazy?"

"We'll make it! Trust me!" John retorted. Muscles tensing as he controlled the ship. Felt the strange interface between his mind and the systems. The ATA gene activating maneuvers before he even brought them into conscious thought.

"We'll make it," Ronon agreed. Knowing John wouldn't risk Moira's life unless he was certain they would make it. Was certain she was in no danger, or nearly so.

Moira gasped as the ship plummeted abruptly. Alarms screamed. "John!"

"Just a bump in the road," he said calmly. Leveling once more and regaining altitude. The city spire's gleamed dimly in the distance, distorted by the driving rain and darkness. Brief glimmers of golden lights. A lonely island in the midst of the tempest of ocean and sky. Nevertheless John flew straight for the city. "This is Sheppard. Incoming. Open the hatchway."

"Yes, sir! Ready to receive!" came a crackling voice.

John relaxed. Flying up, up over and city now as it came into view. Then down towards the dark opening which yawned wide to swallow the ship into safety. The drive pod rattled. Sparks flew. He landed the ship with a slight bump. It listed to one side, unbalanced, but stable. John powered down the ship. "See? I am tired of having to repair this Jumper. But we're safe and sound."

"Just! Are you crazy!" Rodney flared, releasing the wall at last. "That was nearly suicidal! No, no, that was nearly homicidal as you would have taken us with you! Flying in those conditions with an unstable power cell and a damaged drive pod! What the hell were you–"

"I got us here, didn't I?" John retorted, turning in his seat to see Rodney gesticulating wildly. "Would you have rather weathered that storm on the mainland? In an unstable ship?"

"Yes! We could have crashed into the ocean! Into the mainland! Into the city!"

"No, they would have shot us down first," John laconically noted.

"Oh shut up!" Rodney stormed off the ship, muttering to himself. Returned suddenly. "We still need to locate that–"

"Tomorrow at first light we'll check out the gunnery station again, and scan the whole mainland to find the power source and controls. If there's one there have to be more. Maybe a whole network of planetary defenses." He stood, stepped away from the controls.

"I'll do the scanning! Since you seem incapable of even that most basic of functions!" Rodney stormed off the ship again.

Ronon smiled, stood. "Well, I never doubted you, Sheppard. It's been fun."

"Sorry I doubted you, flyboy," Moira apologized. Moved to stand.

John smiled. "Five. For doubting me."

"Five?" she pouted.

John ran a hand through his damp hair, caught Moira's arm as Ronon left the ship. "I'll meet you in the cafeteria, say in ten?"

"Okay...where..." she asked as he led her out of the ship.

"Got things to do." He winked at her, grinned. Sprinted across the bay and was gone.

Moira groaned inwardly, sighed. "Great...just great."


	4. Chapter 4

Inheritance4

John grabbed a tray. Filled it with food. Seemingly oblivious to the contents as he impatiently made his way down the line. He spotted Moira sitting with Rodney. He joined them. Sat next to her and scooted her over to the wall.

"John!" she scolded, elbowing him so he scooted back a little. Just a little to give her breathing room. "Where have you been?" Suspicious she eyed him. The glint in his green eyes. The anticipation. The almost predatory gleam as his gaze raked over her.

"I had things to...prepare," he informed with a grin.

"Prepare?" she asked, gaze narrowing.

He merely smiled. Began to eat. Moira sighed, resumed eating as Rodney finished.

"Moira said it was inert when they came across it," Rodney continued his conversation although John had missed the first part of it. "Emitting a low pulse. Even before anyone touched it the weapon activated by itself. Erupted from the ground. We have to find out what triggered it."

"Moira. Moira triggered it...with that mouth and that pert little–"

"John!" she elbowed him, annoyed at his mumbling flirtation. "Rodney, why would it fire on a Jumper? Shouldn't it have recognized a Lantean vessel as one of its own?"

"It should have, yes. That's what puzzles me, as well its control center, the brains, if you will."

"We will find it," John assured. Glanced at Moira. She was finishing her meal and eying his French fries. He moved the plate towards her. "Enjoy."

She smiled, took some. "Thanks. Aren't you hungry? I am starving!"

"That makes two of us!" Rodney agreed.

"Not me. I'm saving my appetite," John teased.

Moira sighed. "I could use a beer."

John laughed. "Me too...but not right now." He watched he eat, ate a little more. Impatient. She noticed, ate slower. French fry by French fry. Dipping them into the ketchup, eating them slowly. Trying not to laugh at his increasingly irritated expression. Drumming his fingers on the table. Tapping his foot on the floor.

Moira took a long sip of water. "Ah...that was good."

"Done? Finally?" John snapped.

"Well...I was thinking of dessert," she teased.

"Hilarious, Moira. So was I." He stood, pulled her to her feet. "Goodnight, Rodney."

"So you're not going to finish that?" he asked, pointing at the uneaten food.

"Have at it," John encouraged.

"Funny, I was going to say that," Moira teased, causing John to laugh.

John caught her hand, led her determinedly down the hallways. His stride increasing. "That's six, baby, for eating so damn slowly!"

"Six? John, that's not fair." She stopped at her door but he kept going, his fingers slipping from hers. "John? Overshot?"

He turned. "No." He gestured for her to follow. "Come on, Moira."

She shook her head, hands on her hips. "No, sweetie. I told you," she paused as people passed, "nothing kinky," she whispered.

"What? I can't hear you, Moira," he teased. "Did you say kinky?" he asked loudly.

"John!" She moved to him, hit his arm. "Nothing kinky."

"Okay, baby. Let's go. Now." He led her to the transporter.

"I'm serious, John. Nothing kinky. And no, no going down."

He sighed. "Fine, Doctor No-fun. Whatever."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see. And just so you know, this is nothing romantic, Moira. Nothing like that. This is strictly sexual."

She smiled. "Okay, John. Good to know."

He led her along another corridor. Took yet another transporter. They climbed some stairs swathed in darkness. Their footfalls clanging on the metal steps. Thunder rumbled, echoing in the higher parts of the city. Ringing off the walls. Lightning flashed. Spectacular ribbons of light across the roiling waters.

"John? It's warm up here."

"Don't you worry, Moira. We'll be cool soon enough." He paused, smiled. Turned to her. She was staring past him at the door they had reached. He opened it. The storm flared behind him. Rain splattered the balcony. Glow rods illuminated an overhang. A towel lay there, rapidly becoming soaked. Two more were folded closer to the doorway, dry.

Moira met his gaze. "You..."

He smiled. "Not too kinky."

She looked again at the concert of the storm behind him. The wind chilled her. Swept a mist of rain upon them to kiss their skin, their clothes. "Here? Out there?" She pointed. "Is it safe?"

"Yes, Moira. I made certain. Come on. Get out of those clothes, baby." He drew her under the overhang, closed the door. Kissed her, running his hands along her body.

She pulled back from him. "John? Like this? Really?"

He nodded, gaze intent. "Like this. Our naked bodies entwined out here. I want to see you naked in the rain, my Moira. Naked and wet...coming so hard, so fast..." His voice lowered, grew husky at the prospect.

She licked her lips, nearly jumped as thunder rumbled. It was loud, boisterous out in the open. A flash of lightning turned the moment blue. John was already removing his shirt, tossed it aside under the overhang. She ran her gaze over his torso as lightning illuminated it. She touched him. Ran her fingers nimbly along but he batted her hand aside.

"No, sweetheart. Not yet. Not until you are naked. Wet. Mine." He sat to remove his shoes and socks.

Moira sat near him, removed hers. Watched the storm's intensity. "We could have just made out in the shower, John," she chastised. "It would have been warmer."

"But not as kinky, not as...untamed," he argued. "Not as erotic. Trust me, Moira. We are far from prying eyes and ears. No one will see us, or hear us. So if you need to scream like a wildcat you can. Please."

"Hilarious, John," she snapped, but watched him stand. Remove his pants. "Funny, isn't it, sweetie, how your shorts hardly ever match your shirt." She smirked at the blue and green striped boxers he wore.

"Now that would just be boring, wouldn't it?" he retorted. Turned to look at her. "Well? Come on, Moira, get naked!"

She stood, frowned. "Fine." She freed her hair. "You and your kinky sexual ideas." She pulled off her shirt. "This is crazy, John! It's one thing to take a romantic walk in the rain but to actually have sex in the middle of a storm?" she fumed. Removed her pants. "I mean, really, this isn't–"

"I told you, baby, no romance. Only sex. Remember? Teal it is, then. Come on, Moira. I want everything off you." He licked his lips. Removed his shorts as they clung to every inch of him. As his arousal pressed, pressed against the clinging fabric.

Moira eyed the storm, still dubious. She stepped out into it. Yelped as cold water drenched her in seconds. She shivered. "Damn, that's cold! Don't you worry, John, I'm used to wet underwear. Aren't you by now?" She turned. Stared as his intense gaze roved over her. The water sliding down her skin in rivers. Making her underwear translucent. She hugged herself, pressing her breasts together, to spill over the bra. Nipples hard, rosy as the lightning illuminated her near naked body. "John! I'm freezing!"

He smiled. Stepped to her. Ran his hands up her wet arms. Pulled the straps of the bra down. Yanked it off her breasts. "Hmm...Moira, let me warm you. All of you...fuck this is so hot..." His fingers played along her waist, her panties. He yanked them down, down. She stepped out of the fallen material, gasping as water hit her everywhere. Cold splashes. He kissed her. His mouth was warm, inviting. Persuasive.

Moira flung herself against him. Sliding on his wet skin. Seeking his warmth. "John..." she whispered urgently as his stubbled jaw scraped her skin. A delicious roughness as he kissed down her throat. His chest hair scratched against her breasts, rubbing the hard nipples to an erotic intensity. She pulled him to the towel, moved downwards. Gasped at the cold wetness beneath her. She clung as he moved with her, over her. Kissing her over and over. Letting her hands wander all over him as he tensed, moaning. Kissing her lower, lower, finding each breast to fondle. To lick. To possess.

Moira arched. The mix of cold and hot arousing, stimulating. The storm crashing around them. Thunder shook the floor. Lightning illuminating their naked bodies. John's stubble scraped her nipples unbearably as he sucked, teased. He slid down to the scar on her side as his hands traveled up her inner thighs. Parting them. She squirmed. "No, John...no, you said you wouldn't, you said you wouldn't go down!" she warned in a breathless whimper.

He paused. Met her gaze and smiled. "I lied." Moira braced herself as he slid back down her body. Fingers caressing, teasing. She bent her knees, helpless to resist as he cajoled and wooed. Her fingers slid along his wet skin, couldn't gain a purchase. She clawed the wet towel, arching, moaning his name, squirming wildly but his weight kept her in place.

John ran soft kisses up her thigh, teasing, taunting. Along the top of her mound. The scents of rain and her arousal maddening. The tastes intoxicating. Expertly moving, tasting. Seeking to bring her, but not all the way. Not yet. Just enough to be putty in his hands, enough to be desperate for his attentions to fulfill the desire, the need.

"John, John, not, not full throttle, not not..." she stammered, trying to articulate while he nibbled, teased. Promising waves of pleasure but always pulling back before she spun over the edge. The promise of orgasm hovering, hovering so close it was making her writhe with frustration.

He freed her. Kissed up her thigh again. "Nice and slow, baby? Fine by me...my cock is about to fucking burst here," he complained. Voice low, husky with need, with lust. He entered her at last. Began moving steadily. Confidently as he found the spot to give her the maximum amount of pleasure.

Moira moved with him, even as the rain threatened to drown them. Puddles were forming under her. She caressed his arms, his back. Kissed him repeatedly. Ran her mouth along his throat to circle his ear. To nibble as he groaned in pleasure. Thrusting harder now. Deeper. Hardness filling her, filling her over and over. Faster and faster as the pleasure rushed, rushed like a wave to bring her. Her long exhalation told him he had found his destination. He moved ruthlessly against it as she climaxed wildly. Crying out his name over and over.

John groaned, straining, rocking her into the floor, the towel. Water pounding on his back, on his tense muscles, on his clenched buttocks but he didn't care. Only felt the rush of her release, the tightening of her muscles around him, clenching, sliding until he spurted, spasm after spasm at last. Bringing himself in a rush of motion, of aggressive possession.

Moira clung, rocking with him. Kissing him. His wet skin causing her tongue to glide, her lips to nibble. The orgasm escalated, exploded. Her voice a whimpering moan of his name. She thought he was finished but he only paused and then kept moving, moving. Not quite done. She closed her eyes against the lightning flashes, the thunder, the pelting rain. She winced, fingers tightening on him as he rammed into her again. Lifting her to completely engage, possess. Still so hard, so big.

John stared down at her naked body. The lightning throwing blue waves onto her wet skin. Her arched back and breasts. His body joined with hers, rocking her, shoving her closer to the wall as they slid, slid on the towel. Her hair plastered to her face, her shoulders. Her lips parted in a whimpering cascade. Her gaze as she opened her eyes to stare up at him.

He groaned, spent, finally felt himself going down, releasing. His throat raw from the repetition of swear words, of grunting and groaning. He gently withdrew, settled on her. "Moira...I...I sort of went full throttle...a little...okay, a lot...I...um, are you okay?" Blinded by pure lust, by sex, by possession he had momentarily forgotten her advice, her request.

"Yes, John," she said softly, trying to catch her breath. His weight pinning her down. He kissed her gently. Pulled her suddenly to her feet and out of the rain. He hugged her close as she shivered. The rain spilling down their bare skin, their hair.

"Moira? Did I hurt you?" Sudden doubt assailed him.

"No, John. I'm just cold," she said. Clung to him for a moment. Overwhelmed by the sheer lust. The predatory, male look on his handsome face. Wet hair plastered to his head. Muscles moving under wet skin.

He kissed her again. "Here. Get dressed, sweetheart. It is cold. Too damn cold." He draped a towel around her, opened the door. She stepped inside as he wrapped a towel around himself. Gathered their clothes and moved to her. He was going to close the door when she stopped him.

"No. Look, John."

He viewed the storm. The crashing waves of the ocean slamming against the city's piers. Thunder echoing across the sky. Lightning flashes with spectacular bolts of blue and violet. Rain flooding the balcony. Sheets of water coursing like a living thing. "Shit," he observed, drying himself with the towel. He pulled on his clothes, watching. "Damn...maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"You think?" she snapped. "We could have had sex in a nice, soft, warm bed, but noooooo...you had to have another kinky fantasy! How come in your kinky fantasies I am always soaked?"

He glanced at her. She was using the towel quickly, eyes on the storm. He could see her own storm of pent-up anger and he felt himself stir in response. "I don't know, Moira. I must like you wet. Drenched."

"Hilarious, John!" She pulled on her clothes, shoved her wet underwear into her pocket. Saw his smile and shook her head. "Don't!"

"Are you mad at me, baby?" he teased.

"Fuck you, sweetie," she retorted. He laughed. "Next time make it a gentle rain, not a fucking monsoon!"

He laughed again, drew her against him. Kissed her. She turned in his arms to watch the storm. He caressed her waist. "Sorry, sweetheart." He ran kisses along her jaw, her cheek. "Moira," he whispered against her chilled skin. "I'll keep you warm, I promise. Warm and safe." He kissed her throat, feeling her tension ease as she relaxed against him. Caught his hands at her waist.

"My Moira...and I'll keep you satisfied. Oh so satisfied," he boasted. She made a sound but kept silent. He smirked. "Do you know, Moira?" he asked.

"Know what, John?" she snapped, irritated again. "How fantastic a lover you are? How fucking kinky you are? How–"

He laughed. "No. Do you know how much I love you?" he asked against her skin, her hair. Voice quiet, gentle.

Startled by this unexpected admission she tensed against him. "John?"

He kissed her brow, her cheek. "It's not just the sex, Moira. It's everything. Every part of you."

She turned to him. Instead of a loving, melting expression that he expected she appeared worried, anxious. "John? Are you breaking up with me?"

"What? No! Geez, even a romantic word goes wrong?"

"Sorry, John. You are the sex guy, not that other guy, so..." She kissed him. "Let's go to bed. Aren't you tired? You should be."

"Very." He stroked her cheek. Kissed her lips. Closed the door. Entangled his fingers with hers and led her. "Let's go." He led her back the way they had come. Through the darkness of the sleeping city. They reached her room. She opened her door. He gently swatted her rear. "Go on, baby, I've got that pert little six."

"You wish, sweetie," she rejoined, entering the room.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John turned at the voice, standing in the doorway as Moira whirled in panic. He glowered at the marine approaching. "Yes, Lieutenant Jacobs?"

The man neared, glancing past John into the room but John blocked him. "Sir...I was just completing my rounds. The city is secure."

"Good to know. Continue." He stared.

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight." John watched the man stride up the hall. Did not move until he rounded the corner and was gone.

"John?" Moira asked, nervous.

He entered the room. Closed the door. Locked it. Turned to her. "It's all right, Moira. No need to worry. Let's go to bed."

"Okay..." She moved to the bed, pulled back the blankets. "Get into bed, John." She entered the bathroom. Shut the door.

John sighed. Stripped to his boxers. He climbed under the sheets. Laid back. Comfort enfolded him. Warmth. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts all over as he waited for her. His sheer enjoyment of the sex. He wondered why those words had spilled out of him. Sighed. Submerging the tide of emotion, locking it away, trying to deny it.

Moira stepped out of the bathroom. Hair drier. Clad in a green nightshirt that fell to her knees. She turned off the lights, moved to the bed. She slipped in next to him. Pulled the covers over both of them. Snuggled against him. "John."

"It's all right, Moira," he soothed. Arm going round her. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want me to leave."

"No. Stay. Stay with me, John."

He kissed her brow, stroked her back. "Moira...why do things have to be so complicated?" he asked. Clarified. "Jacobs just now."

"Because we're all here together. In the city. There's not much privacy, and we can't really steal away except for a few hours," she answered. Closed her eyes as she slid partially on top of him.

"Hmm. Yes. I suppose that's it," he mused tiredly. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. Are you warm?"

"Yes, sweetie. Very." She kissed him. Caressed his chest.

"All right. Sleep."

"Are you going to the mainland tomorrow?"

"Yes. But only for a few hours...unless we find something...weapon...station..." his voice blurred as drowsiness overtook him. He closed his eyes, relaxing. Fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Inheritance5

Moira woke. Tangled in a bad dream. Tossing, turning, unable to sleep. Images of the storm, of John, of his male predatory look as he took her in the rain, the storm. She sat, pulling free of John's arms. Scrambled out of the bed and moved to the window. Watched the storm. It still raged. Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled, a deep bass sound that echoed over the ocean waves. Rain pounded the window.

She tried to sort through her tangled emotions. Seeking the cause of her unease. Distress. Felt a wave of tears but forced them away. Sighed. Rested her forehead on the glass. It was cold. Only wet on the outside. She realized it was the look. The sex had gone oddly awry. The slight soreness. John's insistence. The male predatory look of pure lust. At that moment she could have been any woman. It didn't matter. His resemblance to that other Colonel Sheppard in that other reality had been chilling. Eerie. She shuddered, looked at the bed.

John was still asleep, sprawled on his back. Her John. The one who had pulled her from the storm. Who had wrapped her in a towel. Asked if he had hurt her. Told her he loved her. She sighed. Trying to reconcile the man she knew with the glimpse of what he could be. The glimpse the lightning had revealed.

John stirred as a loud clap of thunder disrupted his sleep. Shook the city walls. He rolled onto his side. Felt the absence of Moira. No warm body next to his but only cold blankets. "Moira?" he muttered. Opened his eyes. Looked at the door. Rolled onto his other side. A flash of lightning illuminated her standing by the window. Pensive face. Loose hair billowing around her. "Moira?"

"Go to sleep, John," she said glumly. Not turning to view him. Not moving as darkness swallowed her.

He sighed. Hearing her tone. Looked at the clock. Grimaced at the time. Two in the morning. He yawned, reluctant to move. The comfort of the bed inducing lethargy. As did his reluctance to confront whatever was bothering her. "Moira? What's wrong?" he finally asked.

She heard his slight annoyance. Almost disinterest. Frowned. "I couldn't sleep."

"Couldn't sleep? Why?"

"Bad dream. Go back to sleep, John."

"Bad dream?" he repeated. "What was it about? Moira?" He sat. Resigning himself.

She sighed. Irritated. "John, it doesn't matter. Go back to sleep, would you?" She glared at the storm. "Like you really give a shit anyway," she muttered.

"What? No," he said, irked at her tone, her words. Her distance. "Maybe I don't give a shit, maybe I do. Come back to bed, Moira."

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. She slid in under the blankets, turned away from him. "Happy now?"

"Yeah, ecstatic," he snapped. He spooned against her, arm sliding over her waist. "Why the hell aren't you? Are you still pissed about the storm? The sex in the storm?"

"Go to sleep! I don't want to talk about it!" she snapped. Shoved against him, as if she could dislodge him. "You wouldn't understand anyway!"

"Don't start that shit with me," he said. "Either tell me or get over it!" In response she shoved into him again. "How am I supposed to go to sleep, then? With you pushing that pert little ass into my crotch?" he asked tersely.

She bent her knees, deliberately shoved against him, felt his arousal. His quick response. "I thought you liked that, John. Can't you keep it under control? Are you going to lose control again, John?" she taunted.

"Are you trying to test me, Moira?" he snapped. Shoving against her now to deliberately press his hardening cock along her rear. "Is this what you want, baby?"

"Oh, I know you do, sweetie. And you always get what you want, don't you?" she berated. She squirmed. Felt an answering arousal between her legs. Her body reacting to his.

"Yeah, yeah, I do. Get what I want. Exactly what I want," he agreed. Pushed her gently onto her stomach. Yanked up the nightshirt to her waist. Flung the blankets down towards their knees. He stared at her naked rear. Ran his fingers along it. Gently squeezed. She made a sound. He licked his lips. Undid his boxer shorts. Moved over her. Pinning her down. "Is this what you want, baby? For me to take you like this?" he whispered into her ear. Brushing her hair aside.

Moira's breathing quickened. Feeling the press of his body on hers. His stiff cock poking her thigh, her rear. His harsh, hot breath in her ear, on her skin. "I'm sure you want it, John. I'm sure you wanted me like this since day one. Tell me, have you taken your lots some women like this? Whether they wanted it or not?" Her tone was angry but the sudden reaction of her body was intense. Passionate. A ripple of excitement made her shiver.

"Some. Some women, damn it! And no, not unless they wanted it this way. So tell me, Moira, do you want it? This way? You do, don't you...but you're too shy to ask me, aren't you?" he teased. Kissing her shoulder. He slipped off her to run kisses down her bare back.

Moira gasped, arched. His hands slid to cup her breasts under the nightshirt. To fondle, caress until the nipples hardened between his fingers. As his kisses traveled down her spine in a languorous seduction. She squirmed, gasped as sensations flooded. "John..."

"Do you want it like this, Moira?" he asked. Voice a hoarse wave of desire. He softly moaned, becoming even harder. Balls tighter. He shifted, moving off her even as her legs parted. Her rear end lifted as if in invitation. "I just bet none of your few, few men ever took you like this, now did they?"

"No..." she agreed. Her whole body a rippling sensation of desire, uncertainty. "John..."

He smiled, sliding his hands down to her hips. Slid under to feel her wetness. Fingers slipping in to feel her readiness. She arched, lifted. A moan escaped her lips. Body tense. "You have to move, Moira. Up. On your knees, baby. At first."

She hesitated. Her face felt hot with embarrassment. He began kissing her back again. Slow, lazy movements of his mouth as he waited. She shifted, slid, bending her knees under her. Rising. "John?" she whimpered. Bit her lower lip in consternation. Curiosity.

He groaned. Moved behind her. Over her. Ran his hand along her thighs. "Okay, sweetheart. Strawberries."

"What? Strawberries?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her body. Shoving the nightshirt up past her waist again, out of the way.

"Safe word," he explained as he met her gaze. Smirked at her puzzlement, then embarrassment. She looked at the wall, blushing. "When you want me to stop." He touched her hips, guided her. Drew her out from the wall. "Wider," he instructed. Parting her thighs with a gentle push. He slowly, slowly entered her.

Moira found herself leaning forward. Body tense but quivering with excitement, pleasure as he slowly, slowly slid into her. She gasped, strained, whimpered at the odd yet pleasurable sensations. He was rubbing places that scattered her thoughts. At angles she had never even considered. In ways she had never dared to voice, much less try. She tried to be quiet but soft, inarticulate exhalations broke from her lips.

John was straining. It was taking all of his control, his will power not to rush. Not to push too hard, thrust too deep. Her tightness enveloped him, cocooned him wildly as her tension rode him. Escalated his own pleasure. Her wetness giving him entry, inch by inch, each stroke careful. A little harder. A little deeper as he tested, tested. He clamped his lips together as the groans escaping his lips were almost feral. The sexual pleasure escalating wildly as he moved, moved. Rocking her gently towards the wall. He finally had to bite his lower lip to maintain his control, to not ram her straight up the wall or into it.

Moira rocked with every movement. Her hands grabbed the bed's headboard. Clung. His hands slid under the nightshirt to her breasts. Then to her hips, positioning her again for maximum effect. Gradually pulling her onto him. A little quicker. A little faster. She arched, moaned as the orgasm struck, nearly making her collapse as it inundated her, wave after wave. She could feel him moving further, faster, sliding all along her now. A bit too deeply as his hardness was so big, so wide, so rough. "Strawberries," she whispered weakly.

Instantly he stopped. A slight spasm causing him to groan aloud as his lips parted. Ragged breathing shook his body. Sweat trickled down his back, his sides. Carefully he eased out of her. Sat back to catch his breath. Still somewhat erect. Still tense with unrelieved hunger. "Moira."

She relaxed, slid down onto the bed. Onto her back, knees bent as she caught her breath. Stared wide-eyed at him as the lightning flared. Her heart was racing. "John...John..." She reached for him. Needing him close, on her. Needing the feel of him, the feel of his mouth on hers.

He moved over her. Kissed her. Kept kissing her as he slowly entered her again. Moira sighed happily as the familiar rhythms began, the familiar sensations heightened now by what they had just attempted. He trailed kisses down her throat, to her breasts as her back arched. He flung the nightshirt up to her throat. Kissed and tasted each breast, all the while continuing a gentle, undulating rhythm. Going a little deeper each time, a little faster.

Moira's fingers caught in his unruly hair. She drew his face up to hers. To kiss him repeatedly. Kiss after kiss to savor his lips, the taste of him. The fullness of his lower lip. The tickle of his tongue as it teased hers. Her legs widened. Encouraging him. "John, John, oh John..." she purred, as the wave of pleasure, of release came sweetly, slowly. One after the other.

He smiled, moaning in pleasure, keeping the gentle pace. Coming a rush, a sudden thrusting which only made her cry out, call out his name. "Fuck! Oh fuck, fuck," he enthused, finding relief at long last. Relaxing in her, on her. Kissing her over and over. Long, deep kisses. Caressing her hair, her breasts. He pulled out but remained on her as she was unwilling to let him go.

"John...oh John...that...that was..."

"Moira...I've always wanted you like that," he confided. "And this, this was so–"

"Love, John...not just sex but love...John..." she touched his face as he met her gaze. Her brown eyes were full of wonder, of happiness, of dreamy passion.

"Ow." He touched his lower lip, tasting blood.

Moira stared. "How...how did you...did I...."

He smiled at her shock. "I did. I had to...to control. To make certain I didn't hurt you...being your first time like that...and to silence my grunts...like a caveman."

She smiled, touched his cut lip. "More like a growling tiger, I think. John...you know people will assume I bit you."

He laughed gently. Kissed her lightly. "Hmm...probably, but you have scratched me so...it's a good thing we have a safe word now."

She kissed him. "John..."

He rolled off her onto his back. His arm encircled her as she snuggled onto him. "Can you sleep now, my Moira?"

"Yes, oh yes, John..." she enthused, stroking his chest. "Oh John. Jo-hn..."

He smiled at the sing-song tone. Kissed her brow. "Ow. Damn it." He stroked her back. "Sleep, sweetheart. I am exhausted."

"Me too...but happy. Are you happy, John?"

"Yes, Moira. Now go to sleep."

She kissed his throat. "John...I love you, John...you...oh John..." she whispered along his skin.

He kissed her brow. "I love you, Moira, so please go to sleep. And I haven't forgotten about those spankings. Six now. I'll need to schedule those in somewhere."

She laughed. "Yes, John. I am sure you will."

He smiled. "Damn right I will." But as she fell asleep he stared at the darkness. Pondering their words. The increasingly emotional attachment developing.

*************************************************************************

"Ah! Good, you're up early for a change!" Rodney hailed as John grabbed some food in the cafeteria. He gestured wildly for his friend to join him. "We need to go check that gunnery station system first thing! I've already completed an initial scan and have several possible targets for possible power sources and control areas."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Rodney frowned, eyed the food on John's plate. "I thought you'd be more excited by this. Being a big new shiny weapon and all."

"I can hardly contain my excitement," John noted. "Can't you tell?"

"Isn't it a little early for sarcasm, colonel?" Carson Beckett asked, joining them. The doctor sat next to Rodney. "What happened to your lip?"

"Yeah, what happened to your lip?" Rodney asked, only just noticing.

John winced inwardly at their stares. At the question. "I cut it, all right? I bit it. Now leave me alone."

"You cut it or you bit it? Which one? How did you bite your own lip?" Rodney pondered.

"Moira bit it," Ronon answered, joining them. He exchanged a grin with Carson as he sat next to John. "She scratched his arm once too. Long scratches here." He ran his fingers along his biceps. Grinned.

"What? No, no, I bit it," John retorted. Uncomfortable.

"Moira bit you?" Rodney asked. Amused. "Wow."

"No! I told you she didn't–" John began in futility as the men laughed at his expense.

"Look, John, if you are going to treat the woman like a carnival ride you're bound to fall off once in a while," Carson wittily observed. The men laughed heartily.

Their laughter drew Moira's gaze as she entered the cafeteria. She quickly loaded a tray and moved to a table where Katie and Julie sat. She wondered at the men's hilarity. Amused at John's obvious discomfort. He was almost squirming on his chair.

"What's so funny?" Katie asked.

"Did you see Colonel Sheppard's lip? It looked...bitten. Oh, Moira!" Julie scolded.

Moira smiled. "I didn't do it. Honestly!"

"That's enough!" John snapped. "For the last time Moira did not bite me, all right? I bit my own lip by accident."

"Okay, John, whatever you say," Ronon snorted. Shook his head.

"Yes, that is what I say. And if I hear any more of this, or any word of this reaches Moira I won't let it pass. Got it?"

"Of course, John. I'll go prep for the mainland. We can leave as soon as you're done eating. Unless Moira wants another bite." Rodney ducked as John glared, as the other men laughed.

"Hey, didn't you have trouble with your knee last week..." Ronon suggested.

"Shut up! Go!" John gestured. Ronon sulked, laughed and left the table to follow Rodney.

Carson grinned. "Really, John, I have to say I am quite surprised. I never pictured our Moira as being so, er, aggressive."

"She's not! For the last time she didn't bite me! I did! I had to in order to keep control of..." He sighed. Stabbed his fork savagely into his waffle. Syrup spurted like blood from a wound. "Damn it, Carson, what is with that woman? I had this perfect idea, a perfectly pleasurable and erotic, kinky...and it goes...somehow wrong, I don't know. The next thing I know is she's upset, won't tell me why, is pissed at me for no good reason! Then we argue, and then have the most amazing...I thought she'd never let me have her that way and then we make love and all is right with the world. Women," he complained, glaring at the waffle. "No, not just women. Moira. It is Moira." He sighed. Sulked. Stabbed the waffle again. "Shit. Sorry, Carson. I didn't mean to dump all that on you. Crap."

Carson shook his head. Smiled. "John, John, you really aren't very good at this, are you? For the first time in a long time you find yourself in a real relationship, not just a sexual one. An emotional one and it's thrown you, hasn't it? You have feelings for her, don't you?"

Hearing laughter he glanced over his shoulder. Saw the two women at Moira's table staring at him. The usual expressions of admiration. Speculation. He looked back at Carson glumly. "Yeah...I guess. I don't know."

Moira shook her head. "I didn't! Honestly!" she repeated to their laughter.

"Oh, right. He bit himself?" Julie teased.

"Yes. He...he did. Actually. To, to contain and control himself when he...okay, I did scratch his arm but I have never bitten–"

"Scratched him? Why?" Katie asked, bewildered.

Julie snorted. "Why? Because he brought her so hard and so fast she lost control! Am I right?"

"Yes, actually," Moira admitted with a smirk. The women laughed. Looked at John. "And last night he...let's just say that if he hadn't have bitten his lip I probably would have."

"Wow," commented Katie.

"I can imagine that. Those soldiers no doubt have some really kinky and rough ways in the bedroom," Julie agreed.

"Not always. I mean, I mean, he..." Moira's voice lowered. "When we made love. We made love. I mean the act of love...not just sex...it was...incredible," she gushed, unable to help herself. "I've never had a man love me like that."

"Wow..." Katie repeated.

"Wow," Julie echoed. "So he can do that as well. And knows the difference..." The women eyed him again.

John sighed. "Yeah...the whole romance angle...unexpected. I guess..." he struggled to put into words his convoluted feelings. He glanced over his shoulder. Saw the women staring at him, but with soft expressions. Doe-eyed, emotional admiration. "What the hell? Why are they staring at me like that? What is she telling them?"

"Probably how she feels, John. Women tend to do that, you know. And if you ask them and listen to them you may learn a thing or two."

John glared. Stood. "Shut up, Carson! I listen just fine. Is it my fault she won't tell me every little ridiculous thing? Women!" He strode to the table.

The women fell silent. Eyes studiously on their food as they ate. As John's shadow fell across the table.

"Moira," he finally said.

"John?"

"A word. Please."

"Of course." She followed him out of the cafeteria, into the corridor. He turned to her. "It will be fine, John," she assured before he could speak. "Don't bother trying to tell them otherwise. They're going to believe I bit you so let them."

"But you–"

"And I'm glad you can talk to Carson. He's an excellent listener."

He stared. "How did you–"

"Don't be embarrassed, John. We're fine. Now." She lightly ran her lips across his. "I've got work to do in the lab. Be careful on the mainland." She touched his arm, left.

He stared after her, perplexed and surprised.


	6. Chapter 6

Inheritance6

John circled the inert weapon again. The gun protruded from the ground at an odd angle. Silent. Pointing at the blue sky like an enlarged finger. He checked his watch. "Well? You've been scanning for hours now!"

"Minutes," Rodney corrected, rising from a crouched position near the base of the weapon. "And I have almost located this low pulse. It's a trace that would normally be undetectable to any ordinary scan but I've refined the parameters to the nth degree. Isn't it time for lunch?"

"Huh?" John had found his mind wandering like it usually did when Rodney started in on an explanation that would only become increasingly more complicated. "Yes. And if you would finish up we could head back to..." His voice trailed into silence as he spotted Moira heading for them. A basket in her hand, swinging it near her hips. "Moira?"

"Back to Moira? What?"

Moira smiled, reaching them. "I've brought you lunch, if you have the time."

"Excellent!" Rodney enthused. Rubbed his hands together. "Let's eat!" He took her arm, guided her past John to a shaded spot where they sat. "I've been working for hours now and I could really do with something to fortify my depleted energies! I have to watch my sugar intake, you know, and I have to be certain to eat because I can get quite ill if I don't."

John shook his head, followed them as Moira set the basket aside and opened it. He sat on the either side of her. "Bring any lemons?" he quipped.

"That's not funny, John!" Rodney snapped. Hesitated. "Did you?"

Moira smiled at his expression. "No, Rodney, of course not. No citrus of any kind," she assured.

"Here." She handed John a sandwich. "_Meleagris gallopavo mutatis mutandis._"

"What?" Rodney asked, mystified.

John smiled, taking the food. "Turkey sandwich, with the necessary changes. Thank you."

"I hope this is all right, Rodney." Moira handed him a sandwich. "The works. Club with–"

"Perfect, Moira! Thank you!" Rodney greedily eyed the bulging sandwich, took it.

Moira pulled out her own sandwich. Handed out cans of Coke to both men.

"No beer?" John asked, disappointment creating a pout.

"No," she remonstrated.

"Definitely not!" Rodney agreed.

"And for dessert..." She held up a bag. "Chocolate chip cookies."

"Excellent choice, Moira! Those are for me, right? I mean, they're aren't that many in the–"

Moira laughed. "No, Rodney, we can share them." She exchanged a look with John. He nodded,

shrugged his shoulders.

They ate agreeably. A warm breeze fluttered Moira's hair. John winced at the pain from his lip, making Moira smirk. Rodney devoured his sandwich, his drink. Sat back with a contented sigh as he glanced at the bag of cookies.

"Have you found anything yet?" Moira asked.

"We're close to locating the power source," Rodney answered.

"If by close you mean far, then yes," John agreed.

"Just because it took precise and complicated calculations not only to defuse the thing but to pinpoint the energy...oh don't give me that look!" He fussed over his scanner, muttering to himself.

Moira eyed John. Smiled. "You have a little something..." She leaned closer, napkin in hand. Instead she licked the ranch dressing off the corner of his mouth, moved her lips lightly across his. He returned the gentle kiss, fingers reaching to caress her thigh for a brief moment. She sat back from him, smiled as he did.

"I hope you didn't bite him this time," Rodney quipped.

"What?" they exclaimed at the same time. Startled.

"Oh, fine. You two make gooey eyes at each other! I'll go finalize these locations, shall I?"

"Rodney! I do not make gooey eyes!" John protested.

"Rodney! Don't you want dessert?" Moira asked. She held up the opened bag.

Rodney returned. Shaking his head at them. Took one cookie. A second. A third. "Thank you. And yes, you do, Sheppard." He laughed at his friend's glare, consternation. Moved back to the weapon. The metal gleamed in the sunlight.

"I thought only I did Sheppard," Moira quipped, completely serious. "I mean I'm sure he does himself sometimes, but I think I–"

"Moira!" John nearly did a spit take and snorted. Put down the almost empty can of Coke and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck!" He coughed, laughed. Called after Rodney, "I do not do gooey eyes! Guys don't do that! Moira, tell him!" He snatched a cookie from the bag, met her amused gaze.

She laughed. Took a cookie. "I'm afraid you were, John. But they were very manly gooey eyes."

"All right, then," he conceded. Sighed. "Crap. Are you trying to kill me?" He lounged against the slight incline at their backs, drew her to sit against him. "We're taking a big risk, Moira. I hope you know that."

"What? By having a picnic?"

"Yes." He softly kissed her cheek. "You know how these romantic attempts turn out. Any minute now I'm expecting a Wraith attack, the city to sink, the earth to swallow us, or a ship to crash land."

She laughed. "No, John. I think we're safe since it was my romantic gesture, not yours. Besides, I would hardly call this romantic, with Rodney here."

"Hey! I heard that!"

John laughed. "True, Moira. But still–"

"Sheppard! I've got an energy reading! Spiking!"

John sighed. "See? I told you. I warned you, Moira," he chastised, pulling her to her feet as he stood. "Look what you've done by this romantic picnic!" he complained, leading her to Rodney.

"What is it?"

"Energy readings! Weren't you listening? Spiking here..."

"Will the gun go off?" Moira asked.

"No. It's inert at the moment. Deactivated. Whatever stimulus triggered it in the first place is not present, plus I initiated an inhibitor to bypass any programming that would attempt a premature reaction."

"Well, that killed the mood," John teased into her ear, hand sliding briefly to squeeze her rear.

"Could you say that in English?" Moira asked, elbowing John as he smirked.

"I did. The power is looping back...hang on, hang on, I can trace the source now! It's retreating to the source of the power initializing and no doubt the programming! Here! It's underground."

Rodney help up the scanner.

"Grid?" John asked, eyed the machine. "Grid seven."

"Grid seven?" Moira asked.

John made a face. "By the mountains, twenty klicks from our current twenty. To the west of this particular station."

"Oh! The mountains near the meadowlands," Moira realized.

"Yes, grid seven. Like I said," he reiterated.

"Wait a minute! Rodney, is that the map?" Moira asked, eying the scanner now.

"Yes," Rodney showed her.

"There," Moira pointed. "There's a cave there, hidden by some overhanging vines. I saw a big bug fly in and out of it during our expedition but didn't have time to investigate. It could be the same place you've located."

"Big bug?" John asked, touching his neck as bad memories surfaced.

Moira tried not to smile. "Not an Iratus bug, John," she soothed.

"Good," he relaxed. Glared at Rodney who was grinning. Until a thought struck him.

"How big?" Rodney asked.

"About the size of your arm," Moira answered. "A dragonfly. Sort of. It flew in and out, rather sporadically. I don't think the cave is it's natural habitat so I wondered why it–"

"Okay, let's go. We'll take the Jumper. Moira can handle the bugs."

"Thanks, John," she commented, earning smiles from both men.

************************************************************************

The cave was deep, dark, dank. Their footsteps echoed on the rocky ground. Squelched on the moist spots. It was oddly humid. John shone his flashlight. The beams bounced off rocks and walls. Something scurried further into the darkness to avoid being seen.

"Definitely here," Rodney informed. The glow from his scanner was an eerie amber light amid the darkness. "Lower down. It's still building. Trying to power the automatic gunnery station. It will loop back here and we need to shut it down before that happens."

"Good idea," John commented. Hearing a fluttering noise he paused, shone his light up. Up. "Get down!" He pulled Moira to the ground. Rodney dropped, yelled, nearly dropped his scanner. A flurry of bats flew wildly at them, over them. Seeking the cave's entrance. There seemed to be hundreds. Frantically squealing, flying erratically. In a brown river they flew out, over, away.

"Ugh! Ugh!" Rodney exclaimed, batting his hands over him as he crouched. "Did I forget to mention that I hate caves? I hate them! And bugs!"

"Bats." Moira stood as John did. She turned back to the entrance, frowning. "That was weird."

"Weird? Bats in a cave? I'm no biologist but I'd say that was expected," John remarked, a quick grin on his face. He shone his light across the darkness. The rocks. The stalagmites covered with slime and lichen. Trails of bat guano glistening white.

"No. The bats. Did you know that there are about one thousand living species of bats? Not much different from the prehistoric ancestors. These bats are the species _Microchiroptera,_ smaller insectivores. Nocturnal. But something spooked them. So much they flew out into the daylight, but erratically, like their echolocation was...off."

"Fascinating as that is, Moira, we're going this way." John gently tugged her arm to lead her. "Rodney?"

Rodney uncovered his head. Stood. "Is it safe?"

"Yes, Rodney." John smirked.

"John, the bats. If their auditory senses are being disturbed by–" Moira began to theorize, still staring at the cave's entrance.

"Later, Moira. This way. Rodney, readings."

"Yes, yes!" Rodney adjusted his scanner. Ran a nervous hand across his head again. "Here! Go down. Down. You need to go down."

John smirked at Moira. "Huh...go down. That's a good–"

"Shut up, John." She shoved him. "Move it, soldier."

"Yes, ma'am. Watch your step."

John led them deeper into the cave. The ground sloped as they descended. Darkness enfolded them. The lichen on the stalagmites threw a soft phosphorescence onto the walls. A pale orange glimmer. Water dripped in the distance. A steady noise like a heartbeat. John squinted. Saw a red glimmer in the darkness. He shone the light towards it but it was gone.

"Closer now. The readings are...weird," Rodney commented. Gaze darting from his scanner to his feet and back again.

"Weird again? Great," John muttered. Saw the red light again. A quick glimmer. A beam.

"Do you feel that?" Moira asked. "The ground is vibra–"

"Get down! Now!" John pulled Moira to the ground as the red beam hit the air where they had been standing. "Rodney!"

"I'm down!" the scientist shouted as the beam sliced the air. Shot apart a stalagmite. Rocks flew. "What the–"

"Look!" Moira pointed as John shoved her behind another stalagmite, followed to cover her.

A strange-looking mechanical robot advanced. Gears whirring. The red light seeking targets. Its heavy footsteps crushed rocks. Shook the uneven ground. Noises hummed as gears clicked.

"It looks like a Probot 'droid," Moira noted. She exchanged a glance with John who nodded.

"A what? Oh no, is that another Star Wars ref–" Rodney began to complain.

"Stay down, Rodney!" John peered round the rock, calculating. "A guardian of some kind. We must be near the power source."

"It doesn't look Lantean," Rodney called as the oversized head swivelled. A red beam blasted near Rodney, as if it had heard him.

"Okay..." John handed his 9mm gun to Moira. "Sweetheart, I need you to cover me. If I can get a clear shot at that control center on its head it should go down."

"Should? Can you shoot that accurately?" she asked, taking the gun. The metal felt cool to the touch.

He smiled. "I'm going there." He pointed towards another stalagmite. "I need you to save my fine, fine ass again. Just shoot at it anywhere, but don't hit me. And stay down. Got it?"

"Got it, John. Be careful."

He kissed her. "For luck. Now." He darted into the open, keeping low. The 'droid swung round, red laser targeting him. Moira stepped out from behind the stalagmite, firing wildly. Bullets pinged off the mechanical body, enough to distract it. John lunged, rolled and came up behind the other rock formation. Moira fell back, ducked as the robot fired at her position. Rocks flew. John veered round, stood, carefully aimed his P90 precisely. Fired. The single shot hit the control center. The robot pivoted. Sparked.

"Stay down!" John shouted, scrambling for cover as the robot fired wildly in all directions. Abruptly it shook. Rocks flew. The top of a stalagmite was blasted into pieces. The robot spun, spun, then exploded. Fragments flew, slicing more rocks. A gear slammed into the wall and got stuck there. Blade still spinning. Dust filled the air. Then silence. John clambered to his feet.

"Moira!"

"Here!" she coughed, brushing debris off her clothes.

"Rodney!"

"Yeah, me too!" Rodney coughed, moving to his feet.

John circled the pieces of the machine, stepped to Moira. He helped her up, kept his grasp on her arm. "You okay?"

"Yes, John. That was some shooting," she praised.

"I'll say!" Rodney sounded much less impressed. "You should have realized it would have a self-destruct! We needed it in one piece, John! Not scattered to the four–"

"You're welcome, Rodney," John snapped. "Let's go. It can't be far now." He took Moira's hand, led her round the remains of the machine. "Rodney!" he urged as the scientist lingered.

"I'm coming!"

They descended. Skidding over rocks and uneven ground. Finding themselves in a dilapidated control room. The ground evened out to a dirty but smooth surface. Rodney's eyes gleamed as he rushed to study the consoles. Wiping off dust and dirt. Debris. "Well, this is Lantean! Still operational after thousands of years!"

"Can you power it down?" John asked.

"Yes. And find the ZPM. There has to be one!" Rodney set to work. Initializing the screens. Power hummed. Data flickered. "Power's still growing...oh, look at this!" He pulled up a map.

John leaned to view it. "Are those other outposts?"

"Probably." Rodney ran his finger along the dusty screen. "Three in all, no make that two. This part fell away into the sea...hmm..."

"Triangulate the coordinates and you'll find the ZPM," John suggested. He looked up to find Moira. She was heading deeper into the cave. Stopped to shine a flashlight along the cave wall.

"Moira! Get back here!" John called.

"Look, John! You're right..." Rodney hit a few panels. The screens came to life brightly, fighting back the gloom. "Wow! I can feel the AI Moira was talking about. Like a virtual gatekeeper in there. Huh...you'd think it would be programmed to cooperate with ATA gene carriers, not fight them."

John watched the red lasers crisscross as Rodney triangulated the three stations. "That's...weird. Why would the Ancients set up a separate, automated defense on the mainland that resists interference from them?"

"Maybe they suspected a traitor in their midst?"

"Zoom in there, that spot." John tapped the screen where the lines met. The panel grew brighter at his touch. Hummed loudly.

"Guess it likes you better than me," Rodney grumbled, but concentrated. "Do you know where that is?"

"I will." John grabbed the scanner and brought up the map. "Cross reference this." He set it on the console. It hummed loudly. "Oops, you'd better do it."

"You think? All right." Rodney had one hand on the console. The other typing on his scanner. Head moving back and forth between the two.

John glanced up, scowled. Moira had stepped further into the darkness, was nearly lost in the shadows as she played her light up to the ceiling. "Moira! Damn it! I'll be right back." He crossed the distance. "Moira! Don't wander off!"

"Look, John!" she said worriedly, ignoring his irritated concern.

"What? More bats? We don't have time for another lesson in chiroptera behavior right now!"

"They're dead, John! Look!" She shone her light along the wall. John frowned, shone his stronger P90 light as well. Hundreds were hanging down from the ceiling, the walls. More littered the ground. Small, brown-furred bodies inert.

"I've got it!" Rodney called. "Grid eight, section oh oh."

John looked back at him. "Section what?"

"We've got a power spike. It's looping back! It's–" Rodney warned, meeting John's gaze across the distance. The darkness.

"Shut it down!" He looked back at the bats. "Come away, Moira. What could have killed them all?" He drew her towards the console.

"I...I don't know...but those others..their frantic flying..."

"I can't stop the looping, or slow it! It's surging...but not in pulses! In waves!"

Rodney looked up at Moira as she reached the console with John. She met his gaze. "Echolocation! It's an auditory disruption wave!" they realized at the same time.

John looked from one to the other. "Okay...that really was weird!"

"That explains the power reacting! The sonic concussions we can't hear!"

"Which the bats can! And it killed them!" Moira finished. "Rodney–"

"I'm trying! It's to strong...too..." he paused. "John."

"John!" she agreed.

"Now that is just creepy," John remarked. Both were staring at him. "What?"

"Here!" Rodney stood, shoved his friend into the chair. "You have to do this! I hate to admit it but your gene is–"

"You're strong in the Force, John!" Moira agreed.

"Stronger than mine, the ATA gene," Rodney snapped.

"Okay. Like the Ancient Chair, right?" John asked, sliding into the seat.

"Right!" Moira and Rodney agreed.

"Stop that!" John set his gun aside. He touched the controls. Swore as the power surged. Reacting to his touch. A hum was discernible. The ground shook. "Shit! It's powering up!" He moved to his feet, leaning slightly over the console.

"Power it down, John! Like Moira did!"

"But this is much stronger!" Moira warned. She moved to stand behind John. Grasped his shoulder. "Evan helped me. I'll help you. Rodney!"

Rodney grasped John's other shoulder. "Okay. Concentrate."

John took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Pictured the systems. Pictured them fading, receding. "Damn...it is strong! Fighting me..." He gripped the panels. "Come on!"

Moira exchanged a glance with Rodney. He shook his head, glancing at the screens. They were all flaring to life now. Bright spots amid the cave's natural darkness. "It's still looping...all of the power is flowing back here now."

"John..." she said, feeling the tension in his body, in his muscles. The strain.

"It's a son of a bitch. It won't go down," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Spiking," Rodney warned. The ground shook. Rocks fell. "I don't think the conduits can handle the overflow."

"Now you tell me?"

"It's overriding the systems!" Rodney warned.

"That's it! Get out of here! Now!" John ordered. Fingers tightening on the controls. Mind trying to force the power down, away. But something was fighting him. Pushing at his thoughts just as he was trying to push his will onto the machine.

"What about you?" Rodney asked.

"I'll be on your six! Go now! I can hold it until you're clear! Go!"

"No! John, we're not leaving you!" Moira protested.

"Moira, go! Rodney, get her out of here now!"

A wave hit. Silence. Then a soundless wave knocking them off their feet. Rocks flew. Rodney landed hard, slamming into a stalagmite. Moira hit the ground but scrambled to her feet. Watched in horror as the whole console shook, shuddered like a beast coming to life. Groaning as a gigantic piece broke free. Fell towards John who was stumbling to his feet, hands still on the panels trying desperately to control it.

Moira saw what was going to happen. Saw in an instant. She didn't have time to call out a warning, to scream. Instead she launched herself. Hauled John back from the console. Flung herself in front of him, shoving him to the ground. Something sliced into her back. Deep. She cried out as pain lacerated her body. As blood flowed. They were knocked to the floor.

John hit his head but his arms surrounded her. He rolled to cover her as the piece flew over them. So close he felt the heat of the sparks graze his jacket. Felt the hot wind of its passing scorch his neck as he kept his head down. His heart was hammering. He lifted his head to see Moira staring at him. "Moira..." he croaked. Drew his hand from under her. Felt wet. Revealed a scarlet palm. Met her gaze in alarm.

"John...save...fine, fine ass you..." she whispered in a gurgle. A line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Staining her lips ruby. Her head fell to one side. Staring at nothing as the pain faded. As his look of alarm, of sudden anguish faded. All was black.

John froze, stared. In shock. "Moira?" he asked in a small voice. Touched her throat. Shook her. "Moira!" he cried in anguish, moving off her when something slammed into his back. Slicing through his clothes, his flesh. Cutting to the bone. He felt blood spurting as he fell on top of her. Choking at the rush of pain and blood.


	7. Chapter 7

Inheritance7

Pain. Rodney groaned. Shoved a rock off his back. Rubbed his forehead. Blood trickled from a cut. A headache was booming, booming, creating a strange vertigo where he felt like he was standing even though he was sprawled on the ground. He coughed, spit out grit and dust. He wiped his eyes, his face. Shakily he moved to his knees.

The darkness was broken by sparks. By a hole in the rocky ceiling that allowed a stream of light to hit the remains of the equipment. By abandoned flashlights. The amber beams hit the destruction and showed the extensive damage. The console was ruptured. Smoking. Appearing as if someone had sheared off half of it with a giant pair of scissors. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of water somewhere deeper in the cavern.

Rodney struggled to his feet. He felt blood oozing from his right arm which hung listlessly at his side. Oddly there was no pain, only a numbness. He stared at the sparks. Wires and crystals a jumbled, dangerous mess protruding from what was left of the controls. He gasped. Froze. Two bodies were entangled and bloody, nearly buried under an enormous piece of wreckage that gleamed scarlet. For a moment the sight didn't register. Would not register as he refused to believe what he was seeing. But then it did.

"Oh my God! John! John! Moira! No!" he cried, trying to rush towards them but his feet tangled. He fell. He struggled to his knees. A glowing light blinded him. He blocked his eyes, mortified at what he had seen. Fearing the whole structure was about to implode he braced himself. A force pushed him. An unseen but physical motion that sent him backwards. He yelled, rolled. Fought to gain his feet again but he fell into blackness as he lost consciousness.

************************************************************************

Blurs. Blurry waves shimmered. Like a waterfall the waves undulated. A clear, crystalline fall of water. Colors danced when the light struck it. Blinking didn't clear the image. Closing the eyes, re-opening them made it better. The water fell, but was oddly silent. In fact there was no noise. No sound.

Moira stared, uncomprehending. There was no pain. But she could feel her body as she lay...where? The last image of the destruction played in her mind. Saving John. John's last look. The anguish on his handsome face. "John?" She coughed. It felt like she hadn't used her voice in a long time. "John!" she called. Louder.

She battled to a seated position. Stared round. A room. A cell. She looked past the water falling but it was on all four sides. Not water but a force field, she realized. She looked down. Saw the off-white gown she wore, the dove vest around it. She touched her back. Felt no wound, no scars, no bandages. Soreness, but no pain. She swallowed nervously.

Moira stood. Moved to walk shakily to the wall. Touched the force field. Felt a vibration, but no jolt of electricity. "John!" she called. "John!" Panic weaving in her voice. "Where are you?"

***********************************************************************

A blurry waterfall met John's eyes as he opened them. He stared at the waves, confused. The shimmer was odd, not like water the more he looked at it. The waves were too straight, too silent, too...he sat up as panic and grief jolted him. Moira. Dying beneath him. The blood. The injury. He touched his back. Felt only soreness. Stared down at his off-white shirt and dove pants. Bare feet. Suspicion laced his mind. He flew to his feet, staring round the cell.

John touched the force field. It vibrated but no accompanying jolt buzzed through him. No static jarred him. "Moira? Moira!" he shouted. Fist hitting the wall. He hit it again. Pounded. Pounded at it as tears escaped. "Moira! Moira!" he shouted. Voice harsh with pain, with loss. With facing yet another loss. Another loss he had caused. He slumped to the floor when his anger sank into despair.

*****************************************************************************

Moira circled the cell. Tapping each wall. Conscious of her bare feet, especially the scarred one. She tried to cover it with the long dress but the material only fell to her ankles. She looked for a control panel. Nothing. Nothing but the clear, blurry force field. She tapped the fourth wall on her journey. "John! Rodney! Hello!" She sighed. Pressed her palm to the surface. Felt the weird vibrations. "Hello?" she shouted.

John jerked at the sound. Wiped his eyes. Listened. Strained to listen. Some noise, some faint whisper had tickled his ears. Started his heart to pound faster. "Hello? Hello? Moira! Rodney! Hello!" he bellowed, moving to his feet. He circled, hitting each wall. Shouting.

Moira pressed her ear to the wall but drew back as the vibrations tickled. "Hello! Hello! John! John!" she cried, hope and desperation colliding. She strained to listen.

John pounded the wall, paused. A voice. Sounding miles away from him despite the overriding silence. He touched the wall. "Moira! Please, please God...Moira!" he shouted. Listened, stilling every motion. Every thought.

Moira pressed her ear again, drew back. Rubbed it. A voice, far away. So far away. Male. "Hello? John! John, is that you! Please be you! Please! John! John!" She felt tears.

John pressed his ear to the wall, drew back at the vibrations. "Moira!" he yelled. The voice was female. But he still wasn't sure it was her. "Moira! Is that you?"

Moira thought quickly. Had to know. Even if it was an illusion, a trick, a dream. "John! Sweetie! Sweetie!" she shouted, so loudly her throat hurt. Voice cracking at the end. She rubbed her neck. Waited. Heart hammering.

John closed his eyes, focusing intently. Heard the faintest voice. A voice. Female. Sweetie. He smiled, nearly sagged with relief. "Moira! Baby! Baby!" he bellowed as loudly as he could. He coughed and rubbed his throat.

Moira concentrated, listening. A faint noise. A voice. Male. Baby. She smiled, wiped away the tears, relieved. "John! Thank God! John!" She touched the wall, pressing her palm to it.

"Where the hell are you, John? John!"

"Moira! Moira!" John touched the wall, palm pressed to it. As if by sheer force of will he could dissolve it. "Where are you, sweetheart? Where are we? Moira!"

Abruptly the wall disappeared. One second it was there, a blur of clear waves. The next gone. John's palm was pressed against Moira's as she stood there. Looking as surprised, as startled as he was. Speechless. Overwhelmed for a brief moment.

Then he broke free, pulled her into his arms. Hugged her tightly. "Moira! Moira, thank God! Moira, you're alive!" he said hoarsely. Emotions drowning him.

"John!" She clung, trembled with relief, amazement. "Can't. Breathe. John."

"Oh!" He loosened his grip, his grasp, but did not let her go. He stared at her. Ran his hand up her back. Then kissed her. Over and over. The taste of her lips intoxicating. Real.

Moira fell into the kiss wholeheartedly. Returning his kisses with an equal ardor. Her hands running along his body, his back. Feeling no injuries but suspecting something had happened to him. Recalling the way he had fallen upon her. She followed as he drew her into his cell, never breaking his mouth from hers. His hands searching her back again, plying the cloth to test the flesh under it. Finally he drew back, looked at his hands. No blood.

She caught her breath. The taste of him reassuring, welcoming. Comforting. "You...it hit you too? In the back?"

"To the bone," he replied. "I felt it...you...I saw you die...you..." He winced at the memory. Hugged her again as if to banish the thoughts. The emotions. "Moira."

"John, where are we? How did we–"

"Don't care. As long as you're alive I don't care. I thought I'd lost you...lost you like my alternate self did...you..." He pulled back suddenly. "Damn it, Moira! Why the hell did you do that? How could you do that?" Anger surged. It was something he could handle, something easier than the grief and despair.

"To save you," she said simply. Brown eyes sincere. "It was going to kill you, John."

"So instead it killed you! How could you–"

"It didn't kill me...I mean...I'm here, right? But I...I think I remember...I remember dying," she mused, gaze drifting inward. To those last seconds fraught with danger. Pain. John's anguished look above her.

"No!" He yanked her against him again. "No, you didn't! You passed out. That's all. Like me when it hit me onto you." He closed his eyes a moment. Willing his version to be the only one. "No one died, Moira!"

"Can't. Breathe. John," she stammered.

"Sorry!" He loosened his hold on her, shrugged. Gave a half-smile. He touched her cheek, her hair. "Moira..."

She stared at the intensity, the solemnity in his green eyes. Kissed him. "I couldn't let you get hurt, John...or, or worse."

"We're fine. Apparently." He looked round. "McKay. Have you heard Rodney?"

"No. He was flung clear of the blast, I think." She looked round, still in his arms. "What is this place?"

"I have no idea. It's not Wraith, that's for sure."

"Are you sure? I mean..." She shuddered. Looked at the ceiling. The floor. The walls. Looked back into her cell. Stared at him. Stared.

Her expression worried him. "What?"

She touched his lower lip. A gentle, tentative motion of her finger. "The cut. It's gone. Healed."

"Huh?" His cut lip was the last of his concerns. In truth he had completely forgotten about such trivialities. Now he touched her hand, his lip.

"Turn around. Turn around, John." He eyed her, but did so, reluctantly freeing her. She lifted his shirt to view his back. To run her hands over the now smooth flesh. Unmarked. Strong. Even the Wraith scratches were gone. She stared.

"Moira?" Her fingers were gently, soothing as they stroked along his skin. He could imagine the feel of her nails lightly scratching him, which led to more sensual thoughts. He pushed them aside. He found her silence unsettling.

"You're healed. Completely...even here..." She touched between his shoulder blades. The smooth, unmarked skin. "The scars are gone. Gone."

"Gone?" he echoed. "Damn...chicks dig scars," he weakly jested. He turned to her. The shirt fell back down to cover his torso. "What about you?"

"My back is fine but my foot..." She moved it as he stared down at the bare foot. The scars. Livid red lines across the skin.

"Is the same," he finished her thought. "Let me see your back."

She smiled, although he was serious. No playfulness sparkled in his eyes. "I don't think so, flyboy."

He smiled. "For purely medical reasons, Moira, I swear."

"Sure, John. Later. You'll have to take my word for now." She hugged him suddenly. "John, oh John! You don't think this is another alternate or parallel–"

"God I hope not, Moira!" he murmured into her hair. His arms encircling her again. He caressed her back. Looked at her. Touched the sleeve of her gown, as if just noticing it for the first time. He stepped back to touch the dove vest. Hands skimming the sides of her breasts.

"John?" she asked, seeing his brows furrow in suspicion.

"This looks...familiar...somehow..."

"What does? The clothing? One of your lots, er, some women wore this?"

"I've seen it before...I mean the material, the style, the design..." he corrected, frowning.

Moira caught his hands at her hips. "John? What if this is...a Wraith trap?"

"I don't think it is, Moira."

"But listen! These are cells, right? Force fields. Whatever technology we found in the cave was anti-ATA gene, right? Maybe these cells are the same. And you..." She freed his hands. Ran her hand under his shirt, up along his chest.

John raised a brow. "What exactly are you–"

"Checking. No Wraith feeding marks."

"Oh. Moira, there's no Wraith tech. Look around. Trust me, their holding cells look nothing like this." Her hand slid out of his shirt as he continued. "If anything this reeks of Ancient tech. But you're right about the equipment being ATA-gene unfriendly, or resistant to any interference. Which makes no sense. And these do appear to be cells."

"And you've seen this clothing? Where? John?"

He was looking round again, thoughtful. He led her to a wall. Touched it. Felt the vibrations echoing up his arm. "This could be Ancient too."

"John, what is it?" she asked, standing close, her fingers entwining with his.

"It reminds me. It reminds me of the time dilation field. The area protected by a time dilation field where people would go to ascend. These clothes..." He fingered the shirt he wore, "were like this. I wore something similar on that planet too."

"So you're saying we...we ascended?" Moira asked. Frowning at the thought.

He smiled at her. "No, Moira. We are very much flesh and blood." His fingers caressed hers. "But this place...it could be some sort of, of Ancient–"

"Trap? Holding cell? Time dilation field? So we're not even on the mainland any more? Or even on the same planet?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." He touched the wall again. "Put your hand next to mine. Here." She did so. Felt the vibrations. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Trust me, Moira. I have an idea. Close your eyes." He closed his. After a moment she did the same. "Think of the cave. Not what happened there, but just the cave itself. Don't let go of my hand whatever happens, okay?"

"Okay, John." But she sounded dubious.

"Concentrate," he urged. He laced his fingers with hers, kept a firm grip. There was a ripple in the vibration. A surge of energy like a wave that enveloped their entire bodies, but not painfully.

Moira opened her eyes, peeking. Saw the cave. The destruction. The debris. She gasped, seeing their inert bodies on the ground. Bloody. Buried. "John!" she blurted, fingers tightening on his.

He opened his eyes. Stared. Saw the blinding light envelope them. Saw Rodney struggling to his feet. Then the wall returned, knocking them backwards with a violent wave. John caught Moira before she fell, keeping his own balance.

"John! Did you see that?" she exclaimed. "We did die! We–"

"No! No, Moira! Obviously not. We saw the past, that's all. At least Rodney is okay."

"How can you be sure?" she demanded. She freed her hand, her body, backing away from him. "How did you know how to do that? Where are we, John? Are we even real? Are we dead? In some Wraith cell? Some projection of their minds?"

"Moira," he tried to soothe, but she backed away from him. The rising panic in her voice causing him to follow her.

"Are you even you? My John has a cut on this lip and scars on his back! Why didn't my foot heal if your back did? What if you're not even real? What if this is another reality? Another parallel universe, yet another John Sheppard but not mine! Not mine!"

"Moira, sweetheart, please, I am your John," he assured. Advancing carefully but she kept backing away from him. Tears in her eyes. Heart racing, unable to stop, to calm, to stem the panic and the fear.

"I can't go through that again, John! I can't! I can't lose you again like that! I died to save you! You shouldn't be here! Wherever here is! So you can't be my John! You can't be!"

"Moira, I am!"

"No! Stay away!" She held up a hand, stopping him. "You stay away from me!" she shouted, moving faster, nearly tripping. She hit the wall. Vibrations ran up and down her back.

"Moira! Hold on, hold on! I'm here! It's me!" John insisted, rushing to her. He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. "I swear it's me! Your John! You have to believe me, Moira! Don't leave me! Don't leave me like this, Moira, please!"

John was clasping air.


	8. Chapter 8

Inheritance8

John bolted upright, gasping. He stared at his empty arms. Found himself wearing the same clothes. He stared round. He was in a room, on a bed. An ordinary-looking room, with scattered furniture. Dusty with neglect. Soreness laced his back. He touched his lip, winced feeling the cut. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood. Whirled hearing a noise. "Moira? Moira!" he called.

"I'm sorry. We had to put you there while you healed."

John whirled again. Saw a woman standing in the doorway. Clad in robes of saffron. Gold. The appearance was familiar, nagging at his mind. But more pressing concerns interrupted. "Where am I? Where is Moira? What did you do to us?"

"Your companion is well."

"Take me to her! Now!" he demanded. Not at all soothed by the woman's soft, mellifluous tone.

Moira nearly jumped off the bed, gasping. Tears streamed down her face. She stared round, panic rising again. Seeing the simple room. She still wore the dress but saw her bloody clothes on the floor. She felt a soreness in her back. Saw the scars on her foot. She scrambled to her feet awkwardly. "John! John! No, no, I can't do this! I can't do this!" she cried, crumpling to the floor. A wave of despair engulfed her.

"Moira? Moira!"

She raised her head, looking through a haze of tears as the familiar voice called her. John was rushing towards her. She scrambled backwards, hit the wall. Shook her head. "No, no, no!"

John slowed. Stared. Knelt. "It's me, Moira, I swear. Look. Look at me. We're real. This is real now. The other part wasn't...was in our minds while we were healed." He glanced at the woman who stood in the doorway. She nodded. He looked back at Moira. "I promise you, Moira. I am your John. We are real." He touched her knee.

She flinched. Stared. Stared. Saw the cut on his lower lip. "John?" she asked warily.

"Yes, Moira. My Moira. I swear, please, sweetheart. Baby, it's me."

"Sweetie?" she tested. Still uncertain.

"Yes. Strawberries, Moira," he assured.

She hesitated. "John? John!" She launched herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly. Kissed her brow.

"Moira, it's all right, I swear! I swear this is real. This is real. Wherever we are...ssh."

Moira clung. A sob wracking her frame. "John, John, please, please, be my John...please..."

"I am, honey, I am." He kissed her again, looked over at the woman. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"We had to remove you. To save you. To heal you we had to move you. All is well now."

John ran his hand up Moira's back. She winced. He felt nothing, no bandage. He looked at the woman again. "You saved us? From the blast in the cave?"

"Yes. Your ATA code initiated the failsafe."

"Failsafe? What are you talking about?" John looked back at Moira who had quieted. Clung still. She lifted her face to stare at him. She ran her hand under his shirt, up his back. He grimaced at the pain. Felt her fingers on the scars. Feeling them she seemed to relax. She slid her hand out of his shirt.

"John...it is you."

"Yes, Moira. I promise it's me." He kissed her lips, a tender motion. "Ow." She smiled briefly. Stared past him.

"Who–"

"You broke out of the rooms too soon. To find each other. To question where you were. But all is well now," the woman intoned. There was a lack of inflection in her voice.

John stood, taking Moira with him. He turned, keeping her behind him. "All is well? Look, we need simple answers. Where are we? How did we get here? Are we even on the same planet? The same time line? Where–"

The woman smiled. "You come from Atlantis yet you know nothing of the failsafe? The defensive procedures? Is that why you tampered with them?"

"Tampered? We didn't know what would happen," John admitted.

"She's an Ancient," Moira realized, stepping next to him. Calmer. Yet she kept a firm hold on his arm. "The last defense of the mainland, of Atlantis."

"Yes," the woman acknowledged. As serene as ever.

"What?" John looked at Moira, then the woman. "The last...you were the programming? In the systems we fought? The one we couldn't...I couldn't control?"

"Yes. We have not felt such raw, pure power in a long time."

"And the failsafe?" Moira asked.

"Yes."

John considered. "The power surge. The destruction triggered the failsafe. To save the ATA gene carriers. The Ancients. What about Rodney?"

"Your friend was not severely injured, and his gene...it was different than yours. Or hers."

"So where are we?" Moira asked, exchanging a look with John. "This isn't a, a simulacrum, is it? We're not...dead?"

"No. You are real. Transported here to a failsafe haven. The last. Only I remain now."

"So it is another planet," John realized. He looked at Moira. Slid his arm around her waist to draw her against him. "I told you we were real, Moira. It's all right." He looked back at the woman. "Is there a Stargate? A ring of the Ancestors?"

"Yes."

"What about time? Is it the same time line? The same–"

"Yes. You were only transported through space, not time. To be healed."

"Can you transport us back now?" John asked.

"No. The failsafe only travels one way."

"We can use the Stargate," Moira reasoned.

"Yes. Take us to the Stargate," John agreed.

"No."

"No?" they said in unison. Looked at each other. Looked back. The woman was gone.

"Hey! Hey, wait a minute!" John led Moira out of the room, froze. "Oh my..."

A fertile plain spread before them. Long green grasses waving in the breeze. Lush trees towered in the distance. A blue sky spread above them. Birds sang.

"John..." Moira was staring round at the dilapidated buildings. They appeared fragile, delicate. As if the wind would be able to shred them. Then she noticed her shoes. Her clothes.

"Hey! Where did you go? We need more answers! Damn it! Where is the Stargate? Hey!"

"John!"

Moira's sharp tone made him turn, stare. She was clad in her normal clothes. The shirt was stained with dry blood, ugly brown splotches. He looked down, saw his own familiar clothing. Felt his bloody shirt. He looked past her. The buildings remained. "At least that's still real. Moira?"

Her grip tightened on his arm. "Still here, John."

"At least we're not naked," he quipped. "Where the hell did she go? Is she is some sort of programming we should be able to find her. Find the power source, right? Find the Stargate and get home. Hey, wait!" He checked his TAC vest. "Radio!" He smiled, but frowned. "No GDO, though. At least we can talk to Atlantis."

Moira checked her pockets, produced a bag. "And we have one cookie left. Things are improving."

He smiled. "Damn Rodney for taking three. Hope he's all right." He kissed her suddenly, pulling her into his arms. "Moira."

She returned the kiss, stepped back. "What do you want to do first? Look for the power source? Find the 'Gate? Eat our one cookie?" She smiled coyly at him, tilting her head. "Have sex?"

He stared in surprise, smiled. "Really? Don't tempt me, baby. Let's check this building first. See what we can find."

"There are at least two beds, sweetie," she reminded.

He eyed her. "Seriously, Moira?"

She shrugged. "I...I want to be sure. To be sure, John, that it is you."

"And sex is the way to find out? Not that I don't want to...it's just..."

"Weird, I know." She sighed. "Come on, let's search the buildings. Maybe we can find food, or clothes. This shirt is ripped and ruined."

"I did notice that," he commented, following her. Getting a view of her naked back through the torn material. He saw no marks of the wound she had sustained except for a slight bruising.

**************************************************************************

The radio crackled. Rodney groaned, turned. Hit rocks and debris. Swearing he struggled to his knees, his feet. Brushing aside the grit and dirt that clung to him. Light was streaming into the cave. Powerful flashlights illuminating the shadows. He could discern voices now, clomping footsteps. There was a ringing in his ears.

Abruptly he staggered to his feet, recalling what he had seen. The bodies of John and Moira nearly buried under rubble. He lurched towards the remains of the console. Stared. Heard his name and glanced over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"Rodney! Are you all right? We've been searching for an hour!" Evan Lorne headed for him. A team of marines at his back. "Why did n't you answer your radio?"

"My...what?" Rodney glanced down to see the crackling radio at his hip. "Oh."

"Where is Sheppard?" Ronon demanded, pushing his way to the front. He viewed the debris and destruction with a growing frown.

"I...I saw them... I saw them die..." Rodney stammered.

"Die? You saw..." Evan looked past him. "Where?"

"There! There!" Rodney turned, pointed. "They were there! But then a light engulfed them and now...now they're gone. Where could they be?"

"Are you sure? There's no one there," Evan reasoned, stepping to the scientist as he swayed. "We need to get you to medical."

"No! They were here! Now they're gone! How? I have to find them! I have to..." Rodney swayed, and almost fell. Evan grabbed his arm.

Ronon moved to the huge piece of debris. Squatted. "Blood."

"Shit." Evan turned, still supporting Rodney who was muttering. "Get him to medical, now! I want a full team to search every inch of this cave! If the colonel and Moira are here we will find them! Now!"

*************************************************************************

Moira stood in the second building. Hands on her hips. "Nothing!" she declared. "We've been looking for an hour now and apart from some warm water in that well we haven't found a thing! No food! No clothes! No power source! No tech at all! This is some failsafe! Some haven!"

John smiled at her tone, her posture. He moved to her. "Just don't suggest a garbage chute, your highness," he teased, causing her to smile. "Nothing but the two beds. So...which one?"

"What?" She eyed him. "John, are you serious?"

"We're you?" he countered. "As far as I can tell it's just us, Moira. Alone on this planet. It's nearing nightfall. We can't go searching for the 'Gate in the dark, can we? We have no other option but to spend the night here. Sheltered. Safe. I think." He looked around. "No weapons. Not even a brick or a bat."

"So we stay here for the night? Eat our one cookie? Start out early tomorrow?"

"That's the plan. Unless you have a better one." He smiled. "Although I doubt you have a better one than your first one. About having sex. Lots of–"

"I didn't say lots, John," she corrected.

"I did." They laughed. "So...which?"

She considered. "Which has the more defensible position, colonel?"

"I was thinking which had the better mattress, but that's a good point too." He thought a moment. "The other one. Only one window and the door is off-set from the only ingress point." He took her hand, led her there.

Moira stood, watching him close the door. Move to the window. Close the shutters. He moved to the bed. Studied it for a moment. He wrenched the wooden headboard from the wall and set it at an angle against the door. Frowned.

"Well, it's better than nothing, I guess."

"Do you think we're in danger?" she asked.

"No. But I like to be careful. Especially if I'm about to get naked," he quipped. He removed the TAC vest, set it near the bed. Rifled through the pockets. "There's not much here."

Moira stepped to him. Ran a hand up his torn shirt to the scars on his back. As if needing reassurance. "John...this is real, right?"

He turned to her. Kissed her. "Very real, Moira."

"We...we won't wake up in another scenario, will we?"

"No. And we'll stay awake to be certain. All right?"

"I'm sorry. About earlier. My hysterics. I, I just..."

"No." He kissed her again. "After all we've encountered I don't blame you. After what we just went through...no." He kissed her again, pulling her against him. "I won't lose you, Moira. You have to promise me."

"Promise you what, John?" she asked, stepping back but bumping into the bed.

"Promise me you won't leave me like that again," he urged. Hands sliding under her shirt to feel flesh. Solidity. Warmth.

"I, I won't leave you, John," she agreed, pulling at his shirt, his arms. The strange tenor of urgency, of insistence matching her own.

He moved her back onto the bed, followed. Kiss after kiss until he paused. "Ow." He touched his lip, scowled.

She smiled. "That will teach you to bite."

He smiled. "Hilarious, Moira. How does your back feel?"

"Okay. Yours?"

"Fine." He kissed her again. "Ow! Damn it!"

She smiled, touched his face. A shadow of scruff lined his jaw, his throat. "I'll go easy on you, sweetie."

"Thank you, baby. I do appreciate that." He kissed her lightly. Hands skimming under her shirt to her breasts. "I guess I can't use my mouth for anything," he complained.

"I'm sure you can use other things, can't you?" she teased. Sliding under him, against him. She ran her hand down to his pants. Unzipped. Slid in to grasp. "Hmm...I think this might work."

He laughed. "It will when you move your hand out of the way. Hmm...your mouth can work just fine, you know, Moira."

"Hilarious, John." She kissed him gently. Ran her mouth down his throat. "Love me, John, love me," she whispered. Squirming against him, pulling at his torn shirt. His opened pants.

They rolled. John ran his mouth carefully along hers, down her throat. Hands pulling at her hips, her pants. Opening, sliding, seeking as her legs parted. He groaned as she shoved his shirt aside. Ran her mouth down his chest, waist, sliding along him. She pulled his pants down, his boxers open. Fingers stroking and caressing.

They rolled again. He yanked down her pants, her panties. Yanked them off one leg as she bent her knee to help. He moved over her. Kissing her now, ignoring the soreness, the sting on his cut lip as he seduced her mouth, her skin. Pushing, pushing, feeling her arousal, her need.

Moira's thighs parted to receive him. Lifting, inviting as she pulled him closer. Yanking off his jacket, his shirt. Kissing him all over as he thrust inside her. She moaned, relaxed. Relieved feeling very real, very solid as he joined her, taking her. Her fingers ran up his back to the scars. Feeling them real, familiar. As he mouthed her skin, her breasts. Rocking them in a wild momentum. Faster. Quicker. She bent her knees, wrapped her legs around him as he went deeper, harder. The orgasm hit in a wave of pleasure, release as she clung, crying out his name in the familiar, delicious litany he loved. He came suddenly, groaning, thrusting with pleasure, need. Relaxing as she was safe, was alive, was real, solid. Was his. Finally he rested upon her, released her.

The room was plunged into darkness. Silence. The only sounds their heavy breathing. A wind whistled around the building. "Moira..." he said quietly. Kissed her. "Ow."

She stroked his hair, pulling him back onto her before he could move. "No! Stay like this, John, stay for a little while..."

"Do you believe we are real now?"

"Yes. Very."

He laughed at her breathy affirmation. "So do I." He shifted, easing some of his weight off her. "We'll leave at first light, my Moira. Find the 'Gate and go home."

"We need to find water first. And food." She stroked his back, feeling safe and secure under him. Entangled with him.

"Yeah. I'd kill for a steak right now. And some beer."

"Don't talk about food," she chided. Kissed him. "John...what if...what if we can't find the–"

"'Gate? We'll find it, Moira," he assured confidently. "Failsafe. It can't be far from here. Don't you worry."

"What if, what if we end up in a different Atlantis?"

"We won't. You heard the program. The time line is the same," he assured.

"But what if–"

"Moira," he warned. Lifted his head to kiss her. "Hush. We'll be fine. All right? As long as we're here, real, solid, we'll be fine. Okay?"

"But what if–"she protested, not convinced.

"No." He kissed her again. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll take first watch. Unless you want to have sex again."

"Hilarious, John. Fine. I'll sleep. Wake me in one hour, colonel."

"As ordered, baby. One hour."

She closed her eyes, keeping hold of him as he shifted off her but remained beside her. Close. Arm over her. "John?"

He sighed. "Yes, Moira?"

"We're never having a picnic again," she announced solemnly.

He smiled. "Agreed."

**************************************************************************

Moira woke. Felt a cold draft next to her. Reached for John. Felt nothing. No one. "John! John!" she exclaimed, sitting quickly.

"Here, Moira. Come look at this."

Moira could barely see in the darkened room until the shutter over the window was pushed aside. John stood near the opening. Moonlight, bright and intense flooded the room. Illuminated his profile in a silvery glow as he stood naked, peering intently out the window. Her mouth opened, closed, lips parted in breathless wonder as the silver light cascaded lovingly over his handsome features, form. Slid down his strong back, muscled arms. Long torso and legs. Firm rear. The light silvered the hair on his head, a disordered mess. Ticked the body hair on his arms and legs. Chest as he half-turned to her.

John could see her shape in the dark. Her frozen stare. "Moira." He gestured with his hand. A ghostly motion in the moonlight. Long fingers beckoning. "Come look at this. It's all right." He turned back to look outside.

She hesitated, looking round. Very conscious of her nudity. There was nothing to cover her. Not even a blanket. She sighed, slipped off the bed. Moved next to him. "What? Oh! Oh, it's so beautiful!"

Two moons rose brightly. Huge in the sky. Shining silver-white orbs, one higher than the other. Pure light silvered the long grasses. Waved in the winds. Everything was silver. Spangled. Sparkling with drops of water.

John smiled, gaze moving to her. The light spilled onto her loose hair as it billowed messily around her. Upon her rapt expression. Down the length of her body. Spilling over her breasts. Over the scar on her side. Down to the dark triangle between her legs which glistened. She stepped closer, blocking his view of her lower body. He stepped back, watching as she leaned a little, peering up at the twin moons. The light spilled down the curves of her back to her rear.

Moira heard his suppressed moan. Blushed. Could feel his amorous, male gaze on her. All over her. "It's so beautiful," she repeated, voice breathless. The wind tousled her hair. But her body was reacting to him. To the sight of him. The feel of him so close.

"Very beautiful...so beautiful, my Moira...bathed in silver light like some Venus come to life," he murmured, gaze tracing every curve, every swell of her body. Arousal becoming vibrant.

Startled she straightened, half-turned to meet his gaze. Lost herself for a moment in the passionate expression of his eyes. So green yet now glinting with the silver light like a cat's.

"John? You...are you kidding me?"

He smiled slowly. The slow, seductive smile that revealed exactly what he wanted. "I did say lots, didn't I? Look at you, Moira...my God...look at you..."

His voice was low, snaking along her skin, making her lower body tighten and tense. She stumbled into the light again, giving him a full view before retreating to the shadows. He opened the window wider. The light seemed to chase after her, catching her body as she reached the bed. "Hilarious, John!" she scolded, but her voice was fraught with desire. She sat on the bed, folding her legs to cover herself. "Come to bed. It's your turn to, to, to sleep," she stammered. Staring as he neared. A feline's grace in his movements. An expression of passion, desire on his handsome face. Arousal all too evident.

"I don't think so, Moira," he said hoarsely. He slid next to her. Kissed her. "Ow! Damn it!"

She laughed. Pushed him onto his back. Moved over him. "All right, John...relax. If we do more we'll cut your lip and we don't have any medical supplies."

"But I...oh...I see..." he realized, smiling as she gently kissed him, his jaw, his throat. Circled his ear to make him moan. Straddled him. She sat. He was trapped under her, reacting. He shifted beneath her, felt her arousal. "Oh baby...don't you hesitate," he half-sang.

She laughed. Caught his hands as they reached for her. "Gently, sweetie, gently." She sighed, staring down at him. "Good God, John, do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?"

He laughed. "Yeah..of course I do...I hear it all the ow!" he complained as she hit his arm.

"I bet you do. You could at least pretend to be modest." She moved against him, swerving her hips. Gyrating her rear. Feeling him growing harder, bigger under her. Rubbing intimately.

He smirked. "It's hard to be modest when I've got a naked woman on top of me," he jested. Moaned. Moving under her. "Ah baby, just lift and we can go full fucking throttle."

"Yes, sweetie...your ordnance is quite the–"

"No sweetie during sex, remember?" he remonstrated.

She laughed. "Sorry, John. Ah...oh John, oh John!" she enthused.

He watched the rise and fall of her breasts. Watched her slowly, slowly lift. Lean down to gently kiss him. Keeping his hands pinned to the bed. She ran her mouth along his jaw, his throat. As she lifted back he shifted, slid inside of her. She gasped in surprise, straightening. He grinned at her expression. She freed his hands to steady herself. He caught her hands, palm to palm, interlaced their fingers to give her support as she pushed off him, against him to ride him. He smiled, enjoying the feel, the view as she moved up and down.

"Oh John, oh John, John, John," she whimpered, moaning softly as the escalation kept her moving, riding. Pleasure shivering up and down her body now.

He groaned, encouraging her. "Moira, faster! Harder! Oh wait, that's me, isn't it? Oh fuck!"

She laughed between murmurs. "I'll do my best, John...it shouldn't take that long to get you off." She arched, clenched, rode the waves until the climax hit her.

He waited until the shudder had passed. Freed his hands to slide them round to her rear. Squeezed and sat to thrust deeper, harder. She grabbed his arms, nearly falling as he moved steadily, rocking her swiftly until he groaned. A loud string of curse words escaping his lips as he came inside her. He groaned again as she tightened around him, holding him, locking him into position. "Ah, Moira! Fuck that feels good!" he enthused, thrusting as she relinquished her hold. He fell back onto the bed, spasms jolting as she moved up and down again. Eyes closing as the sexual pleasure built, built and spilled over once more.

"Oh John! Oh John, John, John!" she cried, breathing heavily, feeling every part of him, every part of her. She lifted, freeing him at last. Sprawled across him. She rained kisses on him, careful, gentle when she reached his mouth. But he touched her face, fingers tangling in her long hair, guiding her back to capture her mouth in a long, thrusting kiss.

John finally freed her mouth. "Ow..." he sighed, but her mouth moved across his again, gently. Then escaped to traverse the contours of his face, throat, chest. Until she settled on him. Exhausted. His arms wrapped around her, unwilling to let her go. "Moira...my God...that was exquisite," he enthused.

"I know..." she agreed. "I...I can't believe how...how–"

"How fucking good that was?" he supplied.

"John!" she scolded. Caressed his chest. "Go to sleep. I'll take watch...in a minute...I need to rest...you..." A weariness made her limbs feel heavy. His body so warm, solid beneath hers.

"Don't move. Not yet. I need to close that window...in a minute," he stated, but closed his eyes. Exhausted. Happy. Already drifting to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Inheritance9

Finding a stream they paused. Drank greedily of the cold, clear water. Cupping it in their hands. The sunlight sparkled vividly in the liquid. They found some berries. After a tentative test they ate some. Sweet red fruit that squirted juice in their mouths with every bite.

Moira stared past the trees. She thought she caught a glimmer of something, but before she could identify it whatever it was vanished. "John?" she called.

"A minute, please," he called from the screen of trees to her right. "Call of nature, remember?"

"Hurry it up, would you? I think I see something." Not waiting Moira strode into the trees, past them. Greenery whipped across her face but she blocked the boughs with her arm. "John! It's the 'Gate! John!"

John hastily zipped his pants, ran to join her. He smiled. The Stargate stood in a clearing. Never had the stone ring looked more beautiful to his eyes. More serene. A DHD stood near. "See? I told you! Come on!" He led her quickly to it. "And don't ever run off like that again!" he remonstrated. He dialed Atlantis, switched on his radio. The chevrons lit one by one. Blue glowing symbols as the rings turned. A wormhole engaged. John exchanged a smile with Moira. "Atlantis, copy? This is Colonel Sheppard! Lower the Iris!"

"Colonel Sheppard?" came a voice from the radio. Crackling. "Transmit the IDC, sir."

"Can't. I don't have the GDO with me. Lower the–"

"John? Is that you?" Elizabeth Weir's voice sounded worried. Cautious.

"Yes, Elizabeth! We're marooned on another planet! Lower the shield! I don't have my GDO."

"John! Are you all right? Is Moira–" Rodney's voice, full of anxiety and relief.

"We're fine, Rodney! We would have been finer if you hadn't have eaten three of Moira's cookies! We've only had one cookie between us."

"That's him! That's him! Lower the Iris!" Rodney shouted.

"Lowering the Iris. Come on home, John!"

"With pleasure, Elizabeth. Moira?" He looked at her. She hesitated. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, but she didn't know what it was. She took his proffered hand. He led her through the wormhole.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rodney greeted as they emerged, stepping into the Gate room in Atlantis.

"Nice to see you too, Rodney," John quipped.

"It's been three days! Three..." Abruptly Rodney grasped John's arm tightly, as if to make certain he was there. He glanced at Moira. "I saw you! I saw your dead bodies before a wave of light transported you!"

"We weren't dead, Rodney, I mean, obviously," John stated, trying to disengage his arm before his friend could engulf him in a hug. "We were transported to a failsafe."

"A what?"

"What happened to the cave?" Moira asked. Her hand still clasped in John's as she looked round. At their friends. The soldiers.

"It collapsed. Just after I was rescued. But I knew you weren't there! You were...somewhere...but not there. Injured? You look fine to–"

"Get to medical," Elizabeth advised. "Both of you. To be sure. Then get cleaned up, have something to eat, and we'll debrief."

"Thanks, Elizabeth. Come on, Moira."

She followed John, glancing back. Embarrassed at her torn attire though no one had seemed to notice. Something was bothering her still, but she couldn't place it. Found herself following along in John's wake, his relief at being back.

Carson fussed. Took some blood, examined them both. He scanned their backs. "Well, there's no scarring. Only bruising. A slight marking but are you sure you we're injured at all?" Skepticism laced his Scottish voice.

"Yes. I remember that. Whatever...slicing right into me. It felt like it cut me to the bone. But I guess not. Since I'm here." John shrugged, sitting on one of the beds.

"I died."

"Moira?" Carson snapped, in alarm.

"Moira! No, you didn't die!" John scolded. "You're here now, with me."

She stared at him, stared at Carson. "I almost died," she amended. "To save John. Then we were in a cell."

"Cell? What would she put you in a cell?" Carson asked.

"She? How did you–"Moira asked, alarmed. Suspicious.

"Moira, let's go!" John pulled her to her feet. "I'm starving! Can we go, Carson?"

"After a shower, yes," he wryly commented with a smile.

"Wait!" Moira tried to pull free, to stop John. "Carson, how did you know it was a she?"

"You must have said, love. Or John did. The programming, right? That's what Rodney theorized. Go, please. Take a shower and eat."

"I bet we do smell pretty ripe, after three days. It only seemed like one to us," John reasoned. "Moira." He tugged her hand. Ignoring her questions, her concerns.

Moira was staring at Carson. "I didn't say anything like that. Nor did John. And Rodney–"

"I told you, Rodney theorized. And in fact he briefly saw a woman," Carson explained. "It's all right, Moira. You are safe now."

"Rodney did not see a–" she began to argue.

"Moira, we can clear this up later, all right?" John urged, pulling her. "We don't know what Rodney saw, now do we? Maybe he saw the program and realized we weren't down in the cave. Obviously they couldn't detect our subcutaneous tracking devices so they knew we weren't there any more."

She met his gaze, feeling uncertain. "John...I...I suppose that could be..."

"Let's get clean and eat first, okay?"

**********************************************************************

Moira sat in the cafeteria, eating her sandwich. She sipped some pink lemonade. Watched John tear into his steak with gusto. Take long, satisfying swallows of his beer. Relishing every bite, every drink. She sighed. Looked round the cafeteria. "Well...it certainly appears real. Even tastes real."

"What?" he asked around a bite of steak.

She eyed him as he chewed, careful of his cut lip. "John...I think...I think we are the only ones here that are real. And maybe not even that."

"What?" he repeated. He took a long sip of beer. Looked round. Met her gaze. "Don't be silly, Moira. This is Atlantis."

"Is it, John? Am I being silly? Look! Exactly what you wanted! Steak. Beer. We're safe. Home."

"So?"

She frowned. "It happened fast. Way too fast. Think! We found the Stargate like that!" She snapped her fingers.

"True, but I knew it would be close. The failsafe was to protect us. Heal us and then send us back. I mean, whoever got zapped by the last defense and had the ATA gene. The Ancients." He ate another bite. Pointed his fork at her. "Remember the trouble over the IDC? That was authentic."

"Because of you, John," she argued. "Your mind, I mean. What about Carson? How did he know about the programming being a woman? Hmm?"

John set the fork on the plate. Sighed. "Yeah, that threw me too. But maybe Rodney did see her before we were taken." He sipped his beer. Eyed it. "This tastes very real. Damn!" He set it down, looked around. "You know...that medical exam was quick. And painless." He frowned. "Just the way I'd want it to be. But the shower was hot. Soothing."

"Something's off," she agreed softly. "John...I don't think we left that planet. I think we're still there," she whispered.

John finished his beer. "So...you are still sprawled naked on top of me? After that amazing sex?" he smiled. "That was real."

"Yes, it was," she agreed, smiling for a moment. "This isn't real, I think."

He looked round. Other diners were ignoring them. "So if this is another...mind game, how do we prove it? Wake up?"

"Yes."

"But how? Moira, maybe you're being too paranoid. It doesn't make sense. Why make us think we made it back to Atlantis?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe we can't get back. Maybe..." She caught his hand. "John, what if we really are dead and trapped in some virtual–"

"Knock if off, Moira! We are not dead! If anything we are still on that planet!" He sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. It's just...I feel alive. So do you. This feels like Atlantis."

She freed her hand. "There's only one way to be sure. Absolutely sure." She took hold of the steak knife.

"Moira?" he asked. "No...honey..." he reached for it but she drew back from him.

"I'm sorry, John. But I have to be sure. I can't exist in some virtual world, or a fantasy. I have to know where we are. I have to know that you are safe!" Tears in her eyes.

John lunged across the table but she flew to her feet, knocking the chair onto the floor behind her. "Moira, no! Please! Let me! I'll test it. Give me the knife. I'll do it," he offered, suddenly realizing her intentions. Abhorring them.

Voices raised in alarm. A scream. Moira ignored them all, holding the steak knife outwards, as if she was going to attack someone. She backed away from John. "No! John, I don't want to see you hurt."

"Don't, Moira, please. I can't watch you bleed again. I can't," he pleaded. Emotion in his voice.

"It will be fine, John. If I'm wrong Carson will heal me. And we'll know that we're home. If not we should wake up in that bed on that planet."

"Should? Moira, no!" He lunged, grabbing the knife. It sliced open his hand. Blood ran. Someone screamed. Moira drew it back in horror.

"John! No, no!" Yet she flipped the blade, cut savagely down her forearm. Blood spurted from the artery, a crimson stream.

"Moira! Moira, no, no!" John shouted, appalled. He reached for her as the knife clattered to the floor. She fell as the blood gushed, gushed. Pain burning up her arm.

"John...sorry...I was...I was wrong...or..." she stammered.

"Moira, no! No! I won't let you–"

*********************************************************************

John bolted upright so violently he flung Moira off him. She fell onto her side, almost off the bed but she scrambled to a seated position, gasping. John stared at her naked body, grabbed her arm to see no marks. No blood. He caught his ragged breath, stared round the room. "Shit! Shit!" he swore profusely.

Moira stared at her arm. Checked his hand. No cut. No blood. She sighed. Looked round the dark room. Twin streams of moonlight crossed the floor. "I'm sorry, John."

"Damn it! Damn it!" He pounded the bed with his fist. Glared at her. "Don't you ever do that again! I'll never forgive you if you ever do such a stupid, thoughtless, selfish act like that again!"

he flared, heart still hammering in his chest. Gut twisted.

"John," she began calmly, although alarmed at his vehemence.

"No! I'd rather die than have to watch you do that! Do you understand me? I'd rather die myself than have to watch you bleed to death! Again! Especially for me! You can't do that to me again, ever! Promise! Promise me!" he insisted, gaze boring into hers. Emotions threading his voice, hinting at deeper, darker things. Loss and guilt.

Moira stared, wide-eyed. His grip on her arm strong, but not hurting her. "Okay. Okay, John," she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"I mean it, Moira! I don't care if we're in a virtual environment or not! I don't care if you want to save me! You give me the knife next time! You let me protect you from whatever! Promise!"

"I...I promise, John," she assured. Fingers gently caressing his arm.

He took a deep breath, released it. Freed her arm. Touched her thigh, her arm, her face. Fingers sliding through her long, messy hair. "Sorry. I...Moira...I can't endure another death scene. I won't. I just won't."

"Okay, John," she soothed. Kissed his lips gently. "I'm sorry. I had to be sure and I was right. Neither of us was hurt, see?"

"No. Just stranded here, I guess. Who knows?" He sighed, becoming calmer. Emotions stowed away again, shoved aside. "What the fuck does she want from us, Moira? This programming that is supposed to protect us? I'm sick of mind games!" He got off the bed. "Get dressed. We're getting the hell out of here now. For real."

"John?"

"In the dark. The moonlight will guide us. Come on."

She stood, shaken by his passion. She quickly dressed. Sighed. "My shirt. It's really ripped."

"Here." He handed her his jacket. Slipped his TAC vest over his t-shirt.

Moira pulled on his jacket. Although torn it covered far more of her. It was big but comfortable. "Thank you."

He looked at her. Heard her cautious tone. "I'm sorry, Moira. I didn't mean to yell at you. Or to blame you for being right. I wanted to believe we were really home. But you wouldn't stop picking at it. I guess that's a good thing. But I meant what I said. Don't you ever get killed in front of me again. Just don't get killed period. All right?"

"Yes, John. As long as you do the same."

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. She hugged him suddenly. Body pressing to his. He kissed her brow. "Ow. Let's go, sweetheart. Stay close to me."

The moonlight was bright, almost blinding in its double intensity. The grass shimmered with it. Silver waves that whispered with the wind. John took her hand, let her across it. The long blades reached past their knees, caressing their legs. Reaching the tree line they paused. It was quiet. Peaceful. Except for the sounds of the wind and an occasional owl hooting in the darkness there were no other sounds.

"Do you see it? The 'Gate, I mean?" he needlessly clarified.

"No." She shrugged, meeting his gaze. "John, it could be anywhere! I mean, that dream we shared could be misleading. Maybe even deliberately misleading."

"I know. But this is real, Moira. Come on." He led her along the tree line. Ducking under heavy boughs swaying in the winds. Laden with clusters of fragrant flowers. Petals gleaming silver in the moonlight, disguising their true colors.

Moira licked her lips. "I wish we could find that stream, though. I am so thirsty!"

"Me too. Damn...those beers sure tasted real, but I can't taste them now. I'm thirsty too."

"The sex didn't help," she teased.

He smirked. "No, it didn't. But if we have to have sex again to see what's real we will."

She smiled. "Of course, John, if we must." She sighed, making him smile.

He led her out of the trees. Stopped again. A plain extended. But no Stargate stood sentinel as it had in their illusion. Instead the woman stood there. Smiling. "Great," John muttered. "We are going to get some fucking answers!" Her serene expression irritated him.

"Easy, John," Moira warned, as he pulled her towards the woman.

The woman smiled. "You both are strong. I have not seen such strength of will or gene in several years. You saw through our deception yet again." She pointed at Moira. "You especially we're most difficult to fool."

"I've had good reasons to be suspicious of any scenario too good to be true," Moira explained, her grip on John's arm secure.

"I caught on in the end," he grumbled.

"Yes. I assumed you would both be more receptive to any suggestions during your post-coital exhaustion. Remarkable, truly, that you could focus on the deception at all."

John glanced at Moira who was staring at the woman. Her grip tightened on his arm. He looked back. "You...um, you were watching um...that?"

"Oh yes," the woman said, smile still serene. "As failsafe it is in my programming to monitor all aspects of our transfers. Their health and recovery, both mental and physical. Some never emerge frm the whiteness. Others are content to stay here until they ascend. Most never engage in sexual intercourse once let alone twice. You two are the most interesting I have ever encountered."

"You...you watched us...while we..." Moira stammered.

"Thanks," John quipped. "You said others? Some never left? And others ascended?"

"Yes. Most aspire to ascend. But not you."

"No, we'd rather not. What about others who didn't want to ascend or stay here. What happened to them?" John asked.

"You watched us...making love...in the–" Moira stammered.

"Moira, focus," John chided. "The others?" he prompted, ignoring the pain as Moira's grip on his arm tightened.

"They returned to Atlantis, of course. To the fight once it was deemed safe. Until Atlantis was no more."

"Until the city sank, thousands of years ago," John realized. "We raised the city. It stands, well, floats now on the ocean surface. You can send us back now, right?"

"No."

"No? What do you mean, no? You sent the others back, didn't you? Why not us?" John demanded.

"You watched us having sex," Moira stammered, still embarrassed.

"Moira, focus, it's only a simulacrum, not a real Ancient," John soothed. "Well?"

"It is no longer in my programming. The city was lost. The mainland was no longer safe. I have been in stasis for thousands of years until the failsafe was activated. Until your gene," she pointed at John, "initiated the failsafe systems once more."

"Crap," John commented. "We didn't mean to do that. I didn't mean to do that. I mean, the city is found. The mainland is safe."

"The program only activates if there is danger."

"The program is flawed," John argued. "The automated defenses activated and we don't know why. We stumbled upon them, and had to look for the source of the power. We need the ZPM to help power the city. Look, believe me, the city is safe. You saw whatever our minds created, didn't you?"

"You saw everything," Moira accused.

"Moira," John remonstrated. "So you know the city is safe," he resumed his argument. "Alive. You can send us back now."

"No."

John sighed. Rubbed his forehead, his stubbled jaw. "Why not?"

"It is no longer in my programming to–"

"Then program it in!" he snapped, losing patience. "Why am I arguing with a fucking machine? Take us to the Stargate! You said there is a 'Gate! We can return that way. Back to Atlantis. We belong there! We have the gene, right? So we belong there!"

The woman was silent. Thinking. Or running a program. John wasn't sure. He winced, touched Moira's hand on his arm. Pried a finger loose. Moira loosened her grip. "Oh! Sorry, John!"

"Thank you. Well? Take us to the 'Gate to oh shit!" The woman was flickering, fading. "No, no, wait! You can't just leave us stranded here! Hey!" he shouted, rushing forward as if grab her. He stumbled, slammed into a DHD. "Ow! Son of a...oh?"

Moira touched the device. Turned. "The 'Gate!" she exclaimed.

John straightened, turned. "Thank you! Okay, ready this time? Moira, it is real this time. And if you need to test it I will be the one to do it!"

"John," she objected.

"No. Agree now or we're not going anywhere." He folded his arms across his chest. Stern. Stubborn.

She sighed. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid, please!"

"That is entirely up to you, Moira. Here we go." He dialed Atlantis. The chevrons lit one by one. Blue lights in the darkness. The ring ponderously turned. The wormhole engaged. John tapped his radio. "Atlantis! This is Sheppard! Copy? Atlantis, do you copy? Lower the Iris!"

"Colonel Sheppard? Transmit the IDC, sir."

"Can't. I don't have my GDO. Lower the–"

"John? Is that you?" Elizabeth sounded worried. Cautious.

"Elizabeth?" He looked at Moira. The repetition of their illusion was eerie. "Yes, it's me. We've been ma...transported to another planet," he informed, changing the words. "I don't have my GDO with me."

"John! Are you all right? Is Moira–" came Rodney's voice, full of anxiety and relief.

"We're fine, Rodney! Lower the Iris. You can run a full medical to be certain it's us, just let us through." Silence.

"I don't think they believe you," Moira whispered.

"That should prove this is real, sweetheart. Protocols insist on the IDC verification and–"

"John? What kind of cookies did we have? No, let Moira answer," Rodney asked. His voice crackling over the radio.

John drew her close to the radio. Moira hesitated. "Rodney? We had chocolate chip cookies. You took three, and I had one. John had one. We had one leftover which we ate here." She considered. "Rodney, you were upset over the picnic. Over the gooey eyes."

"The what?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, yes! It's them! Lowering the Iris! Come on through!" Rodney enthused.

"Good thinking, Moira!" John kissed her. "Ow. Let's go home." He pulled her towards the 'Gate. Stopped. "Honey? This is real. It has to be. Come on."

Moira was frozen in place. Staring at the shimmering wormhole. "I...I just want to be sure..."

"Then I'll test it. Okay? Come on." He tugged her hand. Tugged. At last she relented and they entered the matter stream.


	10. Chapter 10

Inheritance10

"Where the hell have you been?" Rodney greeted as they emerged, stepping into the 'Gate room in Atlantis. He sounded both irritated and relieved at the same time.

"Nice to see you too, Rodney," John quipped.

"It's been three days! Three..." Abruptly Rodney grasped John's arm tightly, as if to make certain he was there. He glanced at Moira. "I saw you! I saw your dead bodies before a wave of light transported you!"

"John..." Moira warned, anxiety on her face.

John met her gaze, shook his head. "Just wait, Moira." He eyed Rodney. Elizabeth. The marines. "Three days? It was only one to us." He held up a hand. "We'll debrief later."

"Get to medical. Both of you. To be sure. Then get cleaned up, have something to eat, and we'll debrief," Elizabeth advised.

John exchanged a glance with Moira. She eyed Rodney. "Did the cave collapse?"

"Yes. How did you know that? Just after I was rescued. But I knew you weren't there. You were...somewhere...but not there. Injured? You look fine to–"

"Oh shit! John, this isn't–"

"Whoa, whoa, the sequence is different," he soothed, catching her hand. Trying to stem her rising panic, his own anxiety.

"Sequence? What–" Rodney began, mystified.

"It's hard to explain. We're both fine. Really," John assuaged.

"Really? I saw you! I mean I saw your dead bodies before a–"

"No, no," John firmly held onto Moira's hand. Could feel her drawing away, trying to escape.

"It's real, I swear, Moira, this is real. Trust me."

"John," she was shaking her head.

"What's happening? Of course this is real! What–" Rodney stared at them.

"Shit. Moira, I'll prove it." He freed her hand, spun round to a marine. Snatched the man's knife from its sheath. Guns rose. All pointed at him.

"Whoa, whoa!" Rodney raised his hands. "John, what the hell are you doing?"

"John?" echoed Elizabeth.

"John, no!" Moira cried, but he shook his head.

"No, Moira. You promised me. You swore to me. I'll prove it to you."

"No! I believe you, John! I do! I swear!" Moira pleaded. Tears in her eyes. She moved to him but he stepped back from her, keeping the knife out of her reach.

"Don't you worry, Moira. If this is real Carson will heal me. If not we'll wake up in that bed again...I think. Or on that plain."

"John, no! I believe you, I do! Stop him!" Moira cried, lunging to grab the knife from him. But he flipped the blade and cut across his wrist. Deeply. Blood spurted in a crimson wave. "John!"

She rushed to him as he fell to his knees, dropping the knife. The bloody blade left a red smear on the pristine floor.

"John! Get Carson, now!" Elizabeth shouted, horrified.

"John! What the hell?" Rodney shouted.

John grimaced, but smiled at Moira as he hit the floor. "See, Moira? It's real...so far...real...no!" He shoved her away, let the blood flow. "We have to be sure! Shit...I think I cut a little too deep," he realized, as dizziness assailed him.

"John, no, no!" Moira cried, grabbing his wrist to stem the flow of blood. "No, no!"

"I feel woozy, but we're still here, right?" he asked. Vision blurring.

"Yes, you proved it! All right? Damn it, John, why? Why?" she cried, tears falling.

"I'll be fine, Moira. Carson will stop the..the..." His voice trailed to a whisper as dizziness escalated. He heard a commotion, but it sounded far away. Voices shouting. Carson running. Swearing. Marines lifting him. Moira being pulled away from him, her expression anxious, desperate. He reached out towards her with bloody fingers before the darkness took him.

***************************************************************************

Moira hovered by the bed. Wouldn't move. Wouldn't budge. "I told you," she explained yet again, "we were here before. In a, a simulacrum, an illusion implanted by the program. It wanted us to believe we had returned. Everything was so real, but it wasn't. The only way was to, to die, in that version, to wake up in reality. So I...I sliced my wrist and we woke up on that planet. Again..." She glanced up at Rodney, Elizabeth, Carson. All watching her. She looked back at John was stirring. His wrist wrapped in gauze, a thick bandage.

"That makes sense," Rodney finally noted. "A violent act to break the simulation, the illusion implanted in your brains. To shock the system into awareness. So that's why he–"

"Yes," she glumly stated.

"He didn't want you to do it again," Carson realized. "He didn't want to watch you die again. In case you were wrong this time. So he took the risk."

Moira nodded, unable to speak. A torrent of misery and guilt engulfing her. She forced back the tears burning behind her eyes. The past looming upon her.

"Well, this is real. This is Atlantis," Elizabeth stated. Sighed. "Why would the Ancients devise such a program in the first place?"

"Failsafe," John muttered. He opened his eyes, blinked. Saw the circle of concerned faces. Turned to see Moira's guilty, unhappy expression. "Hi." He winced at the pain in his wrist. Eyed the bandage.

"Good thing you cut across, John, and not up like Moira did," Carson informed. "You lost a lot of blood, though."

"I know," he stated. Slowly sat. Touched his sore lip. "I didn't mean to cut that deeply. We had to be sure," he explained, looked at Moira again. Saw her misery, her worry, her love. Emotions washing over him.

"Moira explained," Carson soothed. "As for any back injuries you both exhibit none. Only a slight bruising and tenderness. Whatever did heal you was quite powerful."

"Whatever transported you was quite powerful," Rodney interjected. "I'm thinking this programming was tied to an ascended Ancient. Who else has that kind of power? And who else would intervene but only so far."

"And this failsafe program had been running for years? Centuries?" Elizabeth asked.

"Until the city sank," John said. He longed to talk alone to Moira. To touch her. Soothe her. But he continued, "Most who went there could return to Atlantis before it fell. Some even ascended. We had a devil of a time convincing the program that the city was safe, alive, inhabited again."

"Now that the cave's been destroyed what will happen to the program?" Carson wondered.

"We need to find that planet to–"

"No!" John and Moira said together, stemming Rodney's enthusiasm.

"All right, off you go," Carson shooed them away from the bed. "You two stay here," he pointed at John and Moira. "I'll bring you something to eat. You must be famished. And thirsty."

John waited until they had dispersed. "Moira." He caught her hand. "Sweetheart–"

"I'm sorry, John! I'm sorry! How could you? How could you?" she demanded, yanking her hand out of his.

"I knew what I was doing. It's all right. I knew how to make it less...dangerous, but jarring enough to wake us if this wasn't real. But it is. I did it for you, Moira."

"I know. I'm sorry! I wish you hadn't! You cut too deeply, John! You...you..." Tears sparkled in her brown eyes.

"Moira? I'm fine. Don't. Don't go. It's all right, I swear!"

"Don't ever do that again, John! Don't!" she insisted, voice rising with emotion, with underlying hysteria that he couldn't understand.

"Okay, Moira, I won't. We're fine. We're safe."

Moira shook her head. "No, John, we're not fine. We can't be fine after, after this. I can't...I can't let you do this...I won't...not again. I can't..."

"Moira? I don't understand. Are you breaking up with me? Over this?" he asked, puzzled. "I won't let you!" He swung his legs off the bed even as she was backing away from him.

"Yes, John, I am. To protect you. I won't let you hurt yourself, I won't be the cause of any of this, of you hurting yourself! I won't! I can't! I would rather die! I would rather die than go through that again!"

"What? Go through what again? Moira, wait! You don't want this, do you? I–" he stumbled, trying to follow her. "Moira, wait! I need your help here!"

Moira had turned, was fleeing. She whirled, saw him falling. "John! John!" She ran to him, caught him but he stood. Pulled her up into his arms. Kissed her.

"Er, am I interrupting something?"

John had Moira in his arms. Her body pressed to his. His mouth entwined with hers. His tongue in her mouth when Carson's awkward words broke upon them.

Moira pulled free. "John...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." She backed away from him again.

"No! Moira, you can't!"

But she whirled, fled. He moved to pursue her when Carson grabbed his arm, stopping him. "No, John."

"I have to–"

"No. Let her go."

"I can't! I can't...I..." John sighed, sat on the bed. "Maybe I should let her go. If I cause her that much misery, that much pain. And I don't even know why. Why is she reacting like that? I should let her break up with me...hell, I should have broken up with her weeks ago and–"

"No, don't be an idiot, John," Carson chastised. "You need to eat. You are lightheaded and not thinking clearly. The same as Moira."

"But she–" he began, protesting.

"Feels responsible? Guilty for what you did? Of course. Would do anything to prevent you from repeating it? Of course. You'd do exactly the same."

John sighed again. Ran his hand through his hair. "I did. I mean, I saw her...I saw her die. Twice. For me. I won't let her do that again. I won't! If that means losing her then–"

"It doesn't. She'll come round. Now eat. I'll go take her dinner to her. See how she is. Go on. Trust me. She'll come to you, John."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked. Skeptical. Eyed the covered plate sitting near him.

Carson smiled. "I know Moira. Now eat before you pass out. You don't want her feeling worse, now do you? And stop being an idiot!"

************************************************************************

Moira ran to her room. She paused, staring at the familiar aspects. Furnishings. Relaxing a little. But sobs broke from her. She crumpled onto the bed. Miserable. The scenes of John falling to the floor, bleeding profusely playing in her mind. The savage way he had cut his own wrist. For her.

A knocking at the door roused her. She stood, wiped her eyes. "Yes?"

"Moira, love, it's me. Carson," he identified, as if the Scottish accent wasn't enough. "Let me in, please."

Moira opened the door. Saw the food, drink on the tray he held. "Carson?"

"You're going to make yourself sick if you don't eat, love. Here." He entered, placed the tray on the table. "I've brought your favorite. A chicken sandwich, fries, and water. Of course John wanted steak and a beer but he settled for a burger and water. Now...let's calm down and recuperate, shall we?"

Moira eyed the food. Eyed him. "Carson..."

He smiled. Hugged her. "It's all right, Moira. He knew what he was doing. The wound would not have been fatal...even as deeply as he cut. The lack of food and water was a more serious concern, as it was for you. There, now." He patted her back.

She relaxed for a moment. Pulled back. "Really? I–"

"I have no doubt he'd do worse if it meant saving you. As you did to save him. There's no need to make each other miserable over it, is there?"

"No...I guess not...but, but he–"

"Don't break his heart, Moira. He needs you now more than ever, despite the fact that he doesn't seem to realize it yet. Don't take that away from him. You still love him, don't you?"

"I...yes...I...that is why I can't be with him! Because I–"

"Are you going to be an idiot too? Moira, eat your supper. You need to recover. Take a long, hot shower. By then John will be in his room. All right?"

"Okay, Carson..." She blushed suddenly. "But I can't be with him. Not after this. I–"

"Don't be silly, love. I'll hear none of that. Get some rest. I'll tell Elizabeth the debrief will have to be tomorrow."

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The hot water pounded John. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back. Let the water pound out all thought, all feelings. Washing off the dirt, the grime, the sweat, the sex. Cleaning his body. Finally he stepped out into the foggy bathroom. Grabbed a towel. Didn't bother to shave. He pulled on a blue t-shirt, blue sweat pants. Lounged back on his bed. Arms folded under his head.

He shifted. Unwrapped the bandage on his wrist. Studied the jagged slash on his skin. Saw just how deep he had actually cut. Hadn't realized how dangerous the cut had actually been. He wrapped it, winding the white cloth round and round. Brooded. Looked at the door as knock sounded, almost too soft to hear. He kept silent. Waited. Touched his sore lip.

Another knock. A voice. "John?"

He jumped off the bed. Opened the door.

Moira stood, holding his jacket. Her damp hair curled past her shoulders, against her tan shirt. Gray pants fell to her shoes. "I...I came to return your jacket." She entered, brushing past him, not meeting his gaze. He turned, closing the door. "I know it's damaged in the back but I thought you'd want it returned anyway. Maybe someone could fix it, but I haven't seen any sewing machines here in the city but you never know it could be someone's hobby. Maybe they could send it to Earth to a tailor, or a laundry service or I bet the SGC has its own laundry service on base, I mean how else to get all those similar BDUs clean mission after mission oh John say something before I can't stop rambling and–"

John smiled, took her into his arms and kissed her. A long, passionate kiss halting all words, all emotions. A kiss erasing all doubts, all worries. Merely the motion of his mouth on hers. He finally freed her mouth from his. "Moira, shut up."

She stared, breathless. "Thank you, John. I–"

"Oh no." He kissed her again. Taking the jacket from her. Dropping it onto the floor. "Stay with me, Moira."

"John? No, no, I can't, I can't, I–"

"No, don't say a word, Moira. Not one...except yes...or my name. Nothing else, Moira. Nothing else. You will stay with me."

She briefly smiled. "Yes, John. But I–"

"No," he scolded. "Only yes, John. That's all I want to hear, Moira. Well, I'd like to hear oh John too...several times. Maybe later?"

"Yes, John," she agreed, but hesitated. Glanced at his bound wrist. Faltered. "I–"

"No." He kissed her, moving her towards the bed. "Ow. Damn lip. Nothing else. Nothing." He switched off the lights, pulled the covers down on the bed. Slid under them. "Well?"

"Yes, John." She removed her shoes. Got in beside him. He raised his brows at her fully clothed form, but she snuggled against him. Clutching at his shirt. Hiding her face on him, as if she could hide from her thoughts, her guilt. "John." So much emotion in that one word.

His arm encircled her. Curious at her overwrought misery, but not asking. He stroked her back, her hair. Kissed her brow. "Goodnight, Moira."

"Yes, John." Her voice was muffled against his chest. She closed her eyes, suppressing a sob. Clinging to the feel of him, his solid warmth. To the scent of him. Reassuring herself he was fine, he was alive, he was healing and well.

John woke. Stared at the darkness. Saw the familiar contours of his room. Felt Moira's body pressed to his as he spooned against her. Felt her rear shoved against his crotch. Smiled. Watched her slow, steady breathing. Realized she didn't have a bra on under the shirt. Wondered about panties. He gently kissed her cheek, settled comfortably. But frowned. Recalling her distress. His own violent reactions witnessing her almost death. The cutting of her wrist and arm. The deep despair that had enfolded him. The helplessness of yet losing another. Watching another die because of his negligence.

Moira woke, hearing a noise. She tensed. Rolled onto her back. Sat. Recognized John's room. The familiar furnishings. The sounds of the ocean beneath them. The sounds of John softly snoring as he lay sprawled on his back. She smiled. Nudged him. Nudged him again. He muttered, rolled onto his side towards her. She snuggled into him. Lightly kissed his lips. But frowned. The scene replaying in her mind yet again. What he had done for her. How she had caused him to harm himself. How she could have caused his death. Another death because of her stubbornness. Because of her love.

John opened his eyes. Found himself on his back. Found Moira half on top of him. Breasts pressed to his chest. One hand on his arm. Legs spread. But still fully clothed. Fast asleep. He stroked her back, her hair. Felt a twinge in his wrist. He eyed the bandage. Moira shifted on him. Sliding up his body. Her shirt slid up to reveal the scar on her side. His fingers touched, traced it slowly. She murmured inarticulately. "Moira?" he asked. Considering. Glanced at the clock. The glimmer of sunlight just rising over the ocean.

"Yes, John?" she whispered. Raising her head, abruptly awake. "John, why do I always wake up on top of you?" she asked. Expression oddly serious.

He smiled. "I'm not complaining. Well, I am. One, you should be naked. Two, we should have just had sex."

"Hilarious, John." She moved but he kept her in place. "John?"

"So? Sex? Or are we still broken up? Remember?" he asked, half teasing, half serious.

"I...no. I don't know. I–" she stammered, uncertain.

"Then no," he decided. "We have the debrief this morning."

"Great," she muttered.

"Don't you worry. We'll stick to the Ancienty stuff. The programming. The failsafe. The machinery. Nothing else."

She sighed. "Who knew the Ancients were such...such perverts." He laughed. "I'm serious, John! Watching while we–"

"Twice," he recalled. "It wasn't an actual Ancient, Moira. Just a program. A machine."

"You probably got off on that, didn't you?" she accused. "You and your kinky–"

"Yeah, I might have if I'd known we had an audience," he teased. "But I don't want anyone else to see you naked. Uninhibited. Just me. Oh... Moira, what are we going to do?"

"What?" His sudden concerned tone threw her. The solemnity on his handsome face.

"Your clock radio certainly has seen us engaged in several, several sexual acts. Maybe we should turn it to the wall next time," he informed. Laughed at her scowl.

"Hilarious, John!" She kissed him, settled on him. "John...we...um...you..."

"No." He closed his eyes. "Not now, Moira, please. I'm too fucking tired to deal with anything, all right? And if we're not having sex let's get some more sleep before that debrief."

"Okay. Okay, John..." she conceded, reluctant to say anything more. She closed her eyes, nestling upon him. Content to let it be for now.

But John's eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling.


End file.
